Sinelli

ALL ISLANDS GREAT AND SMALL:
THE ROLE OF SMALL CAY ENVIRONMENTS IN INDIGENOUS SETTLEMENT

STRATEGIES IN THE TURKS & CAICOS ISLANDS
By
PETER THOMAS SINELLI
A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL

OF THE UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT
OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
UNIVERSITY OF FLORIDA
2010
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© 2010 Peter Thomas Sinelli
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To my family, who always knew I could do it
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
What a long, strange trip it’s been. When your graduate career spans three presidential
administrations, you have a lot of people to thank. Some of them helped for a few weeks, and
others for many years, but everyone who chipped into this effort shares one thing in common:
they believed in me. I could never had made it if it were not for the faith of others in what I was
trying to accomplish.
I am deeply indebted to the field school students who paid good money to join a guy they
barely knew for six weeks of manual labor in a foreign country most of them had never heard of.
Without the contributions of Meghan Beverung, Tiffany Cosgrove, Erin Funk, Matt Kear, Brena
Lepore, Matt Newman, Winn Phillips, Jen Riley, and Lauren Willis, and especially Geoff
DuChemin, there is no way I could have pulled this study off, period. I am also very grateful for
the in-country assistance and camaraderie of Brian Riggs, who is as essential to Turks & Caicos
archaeology as trowel and screen, but a whole lot more helpful and fun. I also thank his
colleagues at the Department of Environment and Coastal Resources, officials from the
Department of Fisheries and the Turks & Caicos Tourist Board, and the staff of the Turks &
Caicos National Museum for their generous logistical and/or financial backing.
I also owe much to the departmental office staff and my graduate assistants who
contributed to the dissertation. Jordana Labson and the rest of the UCF Department of
Anthropology office staff were all so helpful as I prepared the final manuscript. My graduate
assistants Mike Martin and Phil Wolfe processed a lot of ceramic data, and Holly Champion and
Josh Crosby created some excellent maps. Andy Ciofalo did all of the above, and was gracious
enough to tackle any other oddball request I threw at him. Finally, Lucas Martindale Johnson
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applied his superb computer skills and artistic ability to create maps and wonderful sketches of
artifacts.
Over the years, my family has been a constant source of logistical, financial, and moral
support. Grandma Becky, Grandma Deb, Grandma Susan, and Aunt Katie selflessly helped run
the house during my fieldwork and other absences. The Culbertsons, Roberts, and Sinellis also
pitched in on many occasions during the analysis and writing, and my parents Michael and Susan
Sinelli generously funded my radiocarbon analyses. Aside from their direct role, my parents and
affines have been tireless cheerleaders, and their words of encouragement kept me going during
the dark times when I thought I would never finish this endeavor.
I also want to thank a number of people within the academy. My Chair at UCF, Arlen
Chase, has been particularly supportive, as have my colleagues in the department. I deeply
appreciate my committee of Mark Brenner, Kathy Deagan, Mike Moseley, and Jerry Murray for
sticking by me. I was never a typical graduate student, and I probably caused more than the
usual number of headaches for them. They could have jumped ship during any of my prolonged
hiatuses as stay at home dad, but they never did. Everyone’s commitment to me and my career is
a huge reason this project succeeded.
As for Bill Keegan, where do I start? Twelve years ago he agreed to take on quite a
project—turning a finance guy into an anthropologist. This quest required the wisdom of
Solomon and the patience of Job. Wisdom to guide me in the appropriate direction, but also to
step back and let me learn some things for myself. And patience, well, because it has been
twelve years. I will always be thankful for his example, and for everything he has given and
taught me.
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Finally, there is my family. As there are no words to describe the depth of my gratitude, I
will be brief. I thank Mike and Alex for letting daddy work on his paper instead of playing.
There will be lots of time for that now! And I thank Amy, whose ceaseless support is the only
reason I made it this far. We (not I) did it!
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...............................................................................................................4
LIST OF TABLES .........................................................................................................................12
LIST OF FIGURES .......................................................................................................................13
ABSTRACT ...................................................................................................................................21
CHAPTER
1 INTRODUCTION ..................................................................................................................22
Research Objectives................................................................................................................22
Profile of a Small Cay Environment .......................................................................................22
Project Overview ....................................................................................................................23
The Project.......................................................................................................................23
Categories of Small Cay Sites .........................................................................................25
Introduction to Turks & Caicos Archaeology ........................................................................27
Overview .........................................................................................................................27
Ceramic Chronology of the Turks & Caicos Islands.......................................................29
The Significance of Shell Bead Manufacture in the Turks & Caicos Islands .................31
2 THE CAICOS BANK SURVEYS ........................................................................................39
Geographical, Physical, and Biological Description of the Caicos Bank...............................39

Geography of the Caicos Bank ........................................................................................39
Physical Description of the Caicos Bank ........................................................................40
Biology of the Caicos Bank .............................................................................................41
Overview of reef and bank fauna .............................................................................41
The modern Caicos Bank fishery .............................................................................42
Caicos Bank exploitation in prehistory ....................................................................45
Survey Theory and Methodology ...........................................................................................49
Survey Theory .................................................................................................................49
Survey Methodology .......................................................................................................51
Survey Results ........................................................................................................................52
The Survey of Long Cay .................................................................................................52
Physical description and survey methodology .........................................................52
Survey results ...........................................................................................................54
The role of Long Cay ...............................................................................................57
The Survey of Moxie Bush..............................................................................................57
The role of Moxie Bush ...........................................................................................59
The Survey of Dove Cay .................................................................................................59
The role of Dove Cay ...............................................................................................61
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The Survey of Iguana Cay ...............................................................................................62
The role of Iguana Cay .............................................................................................63
The Survey of Horse Cay ................................................................................................64
The role of Horse Cay ..............................................................................................67
The Survey of Six Hills Cays ..........................................................................................69
The role of Six Hills Cays ........................................................................................71
The Survey of Plandon Cay .............................................................................................72
The role of Plandon Cay...........................................................................................75
The Survey of Middle Creek Cay ....................................................................................75
The role of Middle Creek Cay..................................................................................78
The Survey of Riley Rock ...............................................................................................79
The role of Riley Rock .............................................................................................80
Conclusion ..............................................................................................................................81
3 THE TURKS BANK SURVEYS ..........................................................................................99
Geographical, Physical, and Biological Description of the Turks Bank ................................99

Geography of the Turks Bank .........................................................................................99
Physical Description of the Turks Bank ........................................................................101
Biology of the Turks Bank ............................................................................................104
Turks Bank Exploitation in Prehistory .................................................................. 104
The Coralie site ......................................................................................................105
The Governor’s Beach site .....................................................................................107
Site GT-4 ................................................................................................................109
Survey Theory and Methodology .........................................................................................110
Survey Theory ...............................................................................................................110
Survey Methodology .....................................................................................................110
Survey Results ......................................................................................................................113
The Survey of Long Cay ...............................................................................................114
Physical description and survey methodology .......................................................114
Survey results .........................................................................................................116
The role of Long Cay .............................................................................................118
The Survey of Big Sand Cay .........................................................................................118
Survey results .........................................................................................................121
The role of Big Sand Cay .......................................................................................124
The Survey of Pinzon Cay .............................................................................................124
Survey results .........................................................................................................127
The role of Pinzon Cay...........................................................................................129
The Survey of Pear Cay .................................................................................................130
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Survey results .........................................................................................................131
The role of Pear Cay...............................................................................................131
Conclusion ............................................................................................................................132
4 OUTPOSTS: THE TURKS BANK EXCAVATIONS .......................................................148
Gibbs Cay .............................................................................................................................148

Data................................................................................................................................148
Physical description of Gibbs Cay .........................................................................148
Description of the Gibbs Cay site ..........................................................................150
Excavation details ..................................................................................................151
Results ...........................................................................................................................153
The cermaic assemblage.........................................................................................153
The faunal assemblage ...........................................................................................157
Other cultural material ...........................................................................................161
Radiocarbon chronology ........................................................................................161
Interpretation of Gibbs Cay ...................................................................................163
Cotton Cay ............................................................................................................................167
Data................................................................................................................................167
Physical description of Cotton Cay ........................................................................167
Previous archaeological research at Cotton Cay ....................................................169
Description of site CC-1 .........................................................................................170
Description of site CC-2 .........................................................................................171
Results ...........................................................................................................................173
Interpretation of Cotton Cay .................................................................................178
The Archaeology of the Turks Islands..................................................................................195
Summary of Turks Bank Prehistory ..............................................................................195
Ostionan Phase: AD 700 to AD 1150 ....................................................................195
Meillacan Phase: AD 1150 to AD 1300 .................................................................196
Lucayan Phase AD 1300 to AD 1513 (1620?) .......................................................197
Activity Areas ................................................................................................................200
Conclusion .....................................................................................................................201
5 ECONOMIC HUBS: THE MIDDLETON AND SPUD EXCAVATIONS .......................222
Overview...............................................................................................................................222
Introduction to Middleton and Spud..............................................................................222
Indigenous Settlement Patterns in the Bahama Archipelago ........................................223
The Evolution of Social Complexity .............................................................................225
Middleton Cay ......................................................................................................................228
Data................................................................................................................................228
Physical description of Middleton Cay ..................................................................228
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Description of the Middleton Cay site ...................................................................232
Results ...........................................................................................................................240
Architecture ............................................................................................................266
Spud ......................................................................................................................................280
Data................................................................................................................................280
Physical Description of Spud and Long Cay .........................................................280
Description of Spud ................................................................................................280
Results ...........................................................................................................................285
Interpretation of Middleton and Spud...................................................................................307
The Meillacan Phase: AD 1160 to Circa AD 1300 .......................................................308
The Lucayan Phase: Circa AD 1300 to Circa AD 1520(?) ...........................................317
6 RITUAL CENTERS: THE PELICAN CAY AND DOVE CAY EXCAVATIONS ...........365
Pelican Cay ...........................................................................................................................365

Data................................................................................................................................365
Physical description of Middleton Cay ..................................................................365
Description of the Pelican Cay site ........................................................................368
Results ...........................................................................................................................375
Interpretation of Pelican Cay .........................................................................................390
The ceramic assemblage.........................................................................................390
The shell tool assemblage ......................................................................................399
Concluding thoughts on Pelican Cay .....................................................................404
Dove Cay ..............................................................................................................................406
Data................................................................................................................................406
Physical description of Dove Cay ..........................................................................406
Description of the Dove Cay site ...........................................................................407
Results ...........................................................................................................................410
Interpretation of Dove Cay ............................................................................................412
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Concluding Thoughts on the Ritual Center Concept ............................................................412
7 CONCLUSIONS .................................................................................................................438
Small Cay Sites in the Turks & Caicos Islands ....................................................................438

The Role of Small Cays in Indigenous Settlement Patterns .................................................441
Economic Reasons to Settle Small Cays .......................................................................442
Social Reasons to Settle Small Cays .............................................................................445
Conclusion .....................................................................................................................447
Avenues for Future Research................................................................................................447
The Role of Small Cays Elsewhere in the West Indies .................................................447
Additional Field Research in the Turks & Caicos Islands ............................................448
The Vertebrate Faunal Material from the 2004 Excavations ........................................448
Were there 17th Century Lucayans? ..............................................................................449
Conclusion ............................................................................................................................452
APPENDIX
A FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT RESPONSE # 1 ....................................................454
B FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT RESPONSE # 2 ...................................................455
C RADIOCARBON REPORTS ..............................................................................................456
LIST OF REFERNECES .............................................................................................................469
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH .......................................................................................................478
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LIST OF TABLES
Table page
1-1 Inventory of Cays Surveyed and Sites Identified by the Field School ..............................37
4-1 The Gibbs Cay Ceramic Assemblage ..............................................................................203
4-2 Gibbs Cay Unit Elevations (in cm below datum) ............................................................203
4-3 Gibbs Cay Marine Invertebrate Remains .........................................................................204
4-4 Radiocarbon dates from the Governor's Beach site .........................................................204
4-5 The CC-02 Ceramic Assemblage.....................................................................................205
4-6 CC-02 Depth of Deposit by Unit .....................................................................................205
4-7 Cotton Cay Marine Invertebrate Remains .......................................................................206
5-1 The Middleton Ceramic Assemblage...............................................................................323
5-2 Middleton Invertebrate Remains......................................................................................324
5-3 The Spud Ceramic Assemblage .......................................................................................325
5-4 Spud Invertebrate Remains ..............................................................................................326
6-1 The Pelican Cay Ceramic Assemblage ............................................................................414
6-2 Vertical Distribution of the Unit Ceramic Assemblage by Sherd Count .........................414
6-3 Vertical Distribution of the Unit Ceramic Assemblage by Weight (g) ...........................414
6-4 Surface Collections at Pelican Cay ..................................................................................415
6-5 Punctation Motifs at Pelican Cay.....................................................................................415
6-6 Pelican Cay Invertebrate Remains ...................................................................................416
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LIST OF FIGURES
Figure page
1-1 Map of Turks & Caicos Islands with relevant sites identified ...........................................38
2-1 Map of the Caicos Bank and associated land masses. .......................................................82
2-2 Aerial photo of Long Cay, as viewed from the north ........................................................83
2-3 Marshy area of Long Cay ..................................................................................................83
2-4 One of the many rock iguanas (Cyclura carinata) of Long Cay .......................................84
2-5 The windward shore of Long Cay .....................................................................................84
2-6 Satellite view of Long Cay showing sites and activity areas discovered by the survey ....85
2-7 The conch pile assigned designation LC-AA01, as viewed from the south ......................86
2-8 Higher-elevation view of submerged conch piles associated with the northern end of
LC-AA01. ..........................................................................................................................86
2-9 View of LC-AA02 .............................................................................................................87
2-10 View of Spud, facing north ................................................................................................87
2-11 The surface scatter at Spud ................................................................................................88
2-12 Moxie Bush, viewed from the south ..................................................................................89
2-13 Satellite view of Moxie Bush (left center) with relationship to South Caicos (at right) ...89
2-14 Photo from the east shore of Moxie Bush facing north .....................................................90
2-15 Satellite view of Dove Cay (center) with relationship to South Caicos (upper right)
and Long Cay (lower left) ..................................................................................................90
2-16 Satellite view of Iguana Cay with relationship to South Caicos ........................................91
2-17 Photo of Iguana Cay, facing west from the shore of South Caicos ...................................91
2-18 The “conch crawl” of Iguana Cay ......................................................................................92
2-19 Horse Cay and its relationship to South Caicos .................................................................92
2-20 The undulating coastline of Six Hills Cays........................................................................93
2-21 One of the many dense stands of Six Hills Cays cactus ....................................................93
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2-22 Pete Sinelli negotiating the steep, barren cliffs of the western island of Six Hills Cays ...94
2-23 Matt Kear surveying Six Hills Cays ..................................................................................94
2-24 The magnificent female osprey guarding her nest .............................................................95
2-25 The historic-era conch pile at the extreme western end of the Six Hills Cays ..................95
2-26 The shacks on the northernmost tip of Plandon Cay .........................................................96
2-27 Preparing for the swim from Plandon Cay to Middle Creek Cay ......................................96
2-28 View from the top of Middle Creek Cay, facing northeast................................................97
2-29 View from the top of Middle Creek Cay, facing northwest ..............................................97
2-30 Crossing the flats between Middle Creek Cay and Riley Rock .........................................98
2-31 Pete Sinelli surveying the “mushroom” feature near Riley Rock ......................................98
3-1 Map of the Turks Bank ....................................................................................................133
3-2 A typical windy and rough day on the Turks Bank, viewed from Gibbs Cay .................134
3-3 Satellite image of Long Cay and the location of the Somewhere activity area ...............134
3-4 Pete Sinelli with part of an airplane wing ........................................................................135
3-5 The field school students posing on a large tree ..............................................................135
3-6 The natural rock wall on the top of the ridge of Long Cay..............................................136
3-7 Two Brown Noddies taking a break from harassing the anthropologists ........................136
3-8 A Brown Noddy “nest” ....................................................................................................137
3-9 The small island and protected shallow lagoon off the northeastern shore of Big Sand
Cay ...................................................................................................................................137
3-10 The beautiful, expansive beach of the lee shore of Big Sand Cay ...................................138
3-11 South-facing view of Big Sand Cay from the northern end of the island ........................138
3-12 Big Sand Cay’s legions of swarming Sooty Terns ..........................................................139
3-13 Surveying Big Sand Cay with our “bird sticks” at the ready ...........................................139
3-14 The foundation and base of the ruined radio antenna on the northern crest of Big
Sand Cay ..........................................................................................................................140
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3-15 Satellite image of Pinzon Cay with location of PC-AA01 ..............................................140
3-16 The rock wall of Pinzon Cay’s windward shore ..............................................................141
3-17 Pinzon Cay’s protective ridge, viewed from the northern portion of Pinzon Cay ...........141
3-18 The protected north and beach of Pinzon Cay as viewed from apex of the ridge ...........142
3-19 Some of the many Turks Head cacti of Pinzon Cay, listing away from the wind ...........142
3-20 Possible ground limestone pestle .....................................................................................143
3-21 Assorted smooth rocks collecting behind a boulder on the southern, windward shore
of Pinzon Cay...................................................................................................................143
3-22 The enclosed limestone rock foundation near the top of the ridge ..................................144
3-23 The stacked and mortared rock footers ............................................................................144
3-24 South-facing view of the rock wall enclosures descending down the ridge ....................145
3-25 The rusting remains of abandoned equipment .................................................................145
3-26 Three of the four deflated bladders ..................................................................................146
3-27 The “U.S Government” license plate from Pinzon Cay ..................................................146
3-28 Satellite image of Pear Cay ..............................................................................................147
3-29 North-facing view of Pear Cay’s landscape as seen from the southern ridge .................147
4-1 Satellite image of Gibbs Cay and site GC-1 ....................................................................207
4-2 The Gibbs Cay beach .......................................................................................................207
4-3 North-facing view from the apex of Gibbs Cay...............................................................208
4-4 Location of Gibbs Cay relative to Grand Turk ................................................................208
4-5 Overview map of the location of the Gibbs Cay site .......................................................209
4-6 View of the site from the Gibbs Cay beach .....................................................................209
4-7 View of the Gibbs Cay deposit eroding out of the steep slope ........................................210
4-8 Site plan of GC-1 .............................................................................................................211
4-9 Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at Gibbs Cay. ......................212
4-10 Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at Gibbs Cay .......................212
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4-11 Vertical distribution of ceramics by unit at Gibbs Cay....................................................213
4-12 Horizontal distribution of ceramics by excavation level at Gibbs Cay ...........................213
4-13 Bead blanks from Gibbs Cay ...........................................................................................214
4-14 Cotton Cay and the locations of CC-1 and CC-2 .............................................................214
4-15 The natural rock wall on the windward eastern shore of Cotton Cay ..............................215
4-16 The remains of a fiberglass skiff washed atop the eastern, windward ridge ...................215
4-17 Salinas on the south side of CC-2 ....................................................................................216
4-18 Satellite view of the plantation era ruins on the western half of Cotton Cay ..................216
4-19 CC-2 as viewed from the beach .......................................................................................217
4-20 Satellite view of CC-2 and the associated salinas............................................................217
4-21 Site plan of CC-2 .............................................................................................................218
4-22 Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at CC-2 ................................219
4-23 Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at CC-2 ...............................219
4-24 Vertical distribution of ceramics by unit at CC-2 ............................................................220
4-25 Horizontal distribution of ceramics by excavation level at CC-2 ....................................220
4-26 Some of the bead blanks from Cotton Cay ......................................................................221
5-1 Location of Middleton Cay, Spud, and Cockburn Town Harbour ..................................327
5-2 Middleton Cay with west oriented at the top of the frame and north to the right ............328
5-3 Some of the monumental conch piles of Middleton Cay .................................................329
5-4 Conch piles in the shallows southwest of Middleton Cay ...............................................329
5-5 Southeast-facing view of two historic period conch-burning fire pits .............................330
5-6 Extent of the Middleton site.............................................................................................331
5-7 West-facing view of the eastern half of the fossil midden at Middleton .........................332
5-8 West-facing view of the western end of the fossil midden at Middleton ........................333
5-9 Imported ceramic sherd embedded with burned limestone and broken conch ................334
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5-10 Palmetto ware sherd embedded near the bottom of the fossil midden ............................335
5-11 Imported griddle sherd and burned limestone .................................................................336
5-12 Imported rim sherd (center, to the right of the live nerite) and burned limestone ...........336
5-13 Palmetto ware rim sherd embedded next to the live chiton .............................................337
5-14 Map of the excavation units in Habitation 2 in Middleton ..............................................338
5-15 Map of the transect and shovel tests at Middleton ...........................................................339
5-16 Location of the Middleton plaza in Habitation 2 .............................................................340
5-17 Map of the plaza test units at Middleton......................................................................... 341
5-18 West-facing view of the Middleton plaza ........................................................................342
5-19 Winn Phillips (left) and Matt Kear in the center of the G structure house floor .............342
5-20 Matt Kear (left) and Winn Phillips in the center of the H structure house floor .............343
5-21 The rocks cleared from the Unit G house floor and piled directly nearby ......................343
5-22 Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at Middleton ........................344
5-23 Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at Middleton .......................344
5-24 Vertical distribution of ceramic weight in grams by unit at Middleton ...........................345
5-25 Vertical distribution of ceramics by sherd count in Habitation 1 ....................................345
5-26 Vertical distribution of ceramics by weight in grams in Habitation 1 .............................346
5-27 Vertical distribution of ceramics by sherd count in Habitation 2 ....................................346
5-28 Vertical distribution of ceramics by weight in grams in Habitation 2. ............................347
5-29 Navicular bowl rim sherd with classic Meillacan designs and sherds with unusual
white paste from shovel test 5S/0E ..................................................................................347
5-30 Meillacan rim sherd from shovel test 0N/15E .................................................................348
5-31 Curvilinear-incised Chican sherd and applique Chican lug from Unit H ........................348
5-32 Decorated sherds from Test Unit 14 ................................................................................349
5-33 Horizontal distribution of ceramics, by weight in grams, at the Middleton site ..............349
5-34 Horizontal distribution of ceramics by sherd count in Habitation 1 ................................350
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5-35 Horizontal distribution of sherds by weight in grams in Habitation 1 .............................350
5-36 Horizontal distribution of ceramics by sherd count in E structure area ...........................351
5-37 Horizontal distribution of sherds by weight in grams in the E structure area..................351
5-38 Horizontal distribution of ceramics by sherd count in G and H structure area................352
5-39 Horizontal distribution of sherds by weight in grams in the G and H structure area ......352
5-40 Several conch shells in various stages of tool manufacture .............................................353
5-41 Conch shells left behind after the central worhl had been removed ................................353
5-42 Recreating the pick extraction method observed at Middleton Cay ................................354
5-43 The beadmaking remains of Middleton ...........................................................................354
5-44 Greenstone flakes from Unit H ........................................................................................355
5-45 Shaped greenstone item of undetermined purpose ..........................................................355
5-46 Northwest-facing view of the stone “compass” ...............................................................356
5-47 Precise west-facing view of the stone “compass”............................................................356
5-48 Satellite image of Spud ....................................................................................................357
5-49 View of Spud from the southwestern beach ....................................................................357
5-50 Site plan of Spud with excavation units ...........................................................................358
5-51 Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at Spud ................................359
5-52 Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at Spud ................................359
5-53 Vertical distribution of ceramic weight in grams by unit at Spud ...................................360
5-54 Chican rim sherd (left) and possible Meillac sherd (right) from Spud, Unit A ...............360
5-55 White-sipped Chican body fragment from Unit F, Level 5 .............................................361
5-56 Meillacan rim sherd from Unit E, Level 5 .......................................................................361
5-57 Horizontal distribution of ceramics, by weight in grams, at Spud...................................362
5-58 The entire bead assemblage obtained from Spud ............................................................362
5-59 Imported chert drill bit (left) and core (right) from Spud ................................................363
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5-60 The imported greenstone cemi from Spud .......................................................................363
5-61 Detail drawing of the cemi ...............................................................................................364
6-1 View of Pelican Cay from the beach at Bambarra Landing ............................................417
6-2 The jagged northern shore of Pelican Cay .......................................................................418
6-3 The sea grape vegetation on the western third of Pelican Cay ........................................418
6-4 Map of the Pelican Cay site and location of our excavation Units ..................................419
6-5 Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware sherds at Pelican Cay ...................................420
6-6 Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware sherds at Pelican Cay .........................420
6-7 Frequency of imported and Palmetto sherds in the Unit assemblage of Pelican Cay......421
6-8 Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware sherds in the Unit assemblage of
Pelican Cay ......................................................................................................................421
6-9 Vertical distribution of sherds from the excavated Units at Pelican Cay ........................422
6-10 Vertical distribution of ceramic weight in grams by Unit at Pelican Cay .......................422
6-11 Northeast facing view of the completed Unit A ..............................................................423
6-12 Northeast facing view of the completed Unit B...............................................................423
6-13 Northeast facing view of Unit C ......................................................................................424
6-14 Northeast facing view of Unit D and the obvious boundaries of the cleared circular
area ...................................................................................................................................424
6-15 North facing view of Units E (left) and F (right) .............................................................425
6-16 Some Chican sherds from Pelican Cay ............................................................................425
6-17 Chican effigy pot in the form of a human face from Pelican Cay ...................................426
6-18 Meillacan sherds from Pelican Cay .................................................................................426
6-19 Imported punctated serving plate .....................................................................................427
6-20 Conception of the layout of the Pelican Cay site .............................................................427
6-21 View of the flat interior area of Dove Cay ......................................................................428
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6-22 Uphill view from the beach of the cultural deposit eroding out of the eastern side of
the flat area on Dove Cay.................................................................................................429
6-23 View of the conch pile .....................................................................................................429
6-24 Satellite view of Dove Cay ..............................................................................................430
6-25 Map of the Dove Cay site that shows the locations of our excavations ..........................431
6-26 Jen Riley preparing to excavate the cave .........................................................................432
6-27 The interior of the cave after our subsurface tests ...........................................................432
6-28 Erin Funk appreciating the pile of rocks we removed .....................................................433
6-29 The Unit C trench in progress ..........................................................................................434
6-30 Photo of the twin pot ........................................................................................................435
6-31 Detail drawing of the twin pot .........................................................................................436
6-32 Photo of the incised lines on the right shoulder of the twin pot ......................................437
6-33 Detail drawing of the left side of the twin pot, with view of incised lines. .....................437
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Abstract of Dissertation Presented to the Graduate School
of the University of Florida in Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy
ALL ISLANDS GREAT AND SMALL:

THE ROLE OF SMALL CAY ENVIRONMENTS IN INDIGENOUS SETTLEMENT
STRATEGIES IN THE TURKS & CAICOS ISLANDS
By
Peter Thomas Sinelli
May 2010
Chair: William F. Keegan

Major: Anthropology
Archaeological research in the Turks & Caicos Islands in the southeastern Bahama
archipelago has traditionally explored sites located on larger and presently inhabited islands. In
contrast, sites on small, uninhabited, resource-deficient cays were typically viewed as peripheral
aspects of the prehistoric settlement pattern, and few were ever systematically excavated. This
dissertation evaluates the role that small cays played in indigenous settlement strategies in the
prehistoric Turks & Caicos Islands.
In 2004, a University of Florida undergraduate field school surveyed seventeen small
cays and conducted excavations at six small cay sites. This work revealed that small cay sites
are not only common across the Turks & Caicos, but also functioned as integral components of
the indigenous economy and cultural fabric. Small cays sites fall into one of three categories:
outposts, economic hubs, and ritual centers. Each type of site played a particular role in the
economic, social, and ritual realms of indigenous society. Significantly, this phenomenon seems
to transcend cultural affiliation and temporal context. This fact suggests that West Indian
prehistorians should consider the potential role of small cay environments played in indigenous
settlement strategies elsewhere in the region.
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CHAPTER 1
INTRODUCTION
Research Objectives
The main objective of my research was to explore the range of ways indigenous peoples
of the Turks & Caicos incorporated small cay (pronounced “key”) environments into their
settlement strategies over time. This is not a simple accounting of sites, but a thorough,
theoretically-based analysis of how small cays were used, by whom, when, and why. In the
process, I wanted to contribute to the broader understanding of Turks & Caicos prehistory by
surveying areas for new sites and examining sites that had previously been reported, but never
excavated, to determine how these factored into the bigger picture. This would facilitate a
secondary goal: to unite a lot of disparate sources, thoughts, and musings from various
researchers about Turks & Caicos prehistory into a single document.
Prior to my research, all of the systematic excavations conducted in the Turks & Caicos
were at sites located on the larger, more resource-rich land masses that have people on them
today. While this research has been seminal to developing an anthropological appreciation for
Turks & Caicos prehistory, it does not tell the whole story. Many sites have been identified on
smaller cays, but these were poorly understood archaeologically. As it turns out, quite a lot was
happening on these small, resource-deficient cays.
Profile of a Small Cay Environment
How small is a “small” island, and what kind of environments are found there? Small
cays are common throughout the Turks & Caicos, but the ones with sites usually lie on the banks
within sight of a larger, historically inhabited island. Cays used by indigenous peoples vary in
size. Long Cay on the Caicos Bank is substantial, as it extends for several kilometers. Others,
like Pelican Cay off the north coast of Middle Caicos, are less than a hundred meters to a side.
22
Almost every small cay lacks trees and is dominated by scrubby, salt- and wind-stunted
vegetation. Most support little terrestrial fauna, and deep soils can be rare. None seem to have
any permanent sources of fresh water. For these reasons, small cays are considered marginal
environments by the modern populace. None have been inhabited in modern times, though some
are occasionally visited by local fishermen and day-tripping tourists. More than 30 named land
masses in the Turks & Caicos fit this description. Literally hundreds more are found throughout
the rest of the Bahama archipelago.
Although small islands’ terrestrial resources are lacking, the marine resources found
around these cays can be abundant. Many cays lie in close proximity to the reefs that have
provided bounties of fish and lobster for centuries. Those cays located out on the shallow banks,
farther from reef resources, are literally immersed in conch habitat. Conch meat was a staple of
the pre-Columbian economy, and remains one of the Turks & Caicos’ most valuable products
even today. This access to marine resources was one of the primary economic reasons that
indigenous peoples chose to settle small cays.
Project Overview
The Project
My research included both systematic survey of small cay environments and systematic
test excavations at small cay sites. I conducted my research in conjunction with a field school I
organized through the University of Florida. I led a team of nine undergraduate students and one
graduate colleague to the Turks & Caicos for six weeks in May and June 2004. During the field
school, we surveyed and/or conducted test excavations on 18 cays on both the Caicos Bank and
Turks Bank (Table 1-1). We excavated six sites on six different cays, including one of the
several new sites we identified in the survey (Figure 1-1).
23
The surveys were designed to identify any indigenous footprints on the landscape,
regardless of size or scale. These footprints include “sites,” “activity areas,” and “pot drops,”
among which there are important distinctions. First, a site is a place where people lived, slept,
and executed domestic activities like food preparation and craft production. Sites do not have to
be a certain minimum size, nor must they be permanently occupied. A site must, however, have
sufficient material evidence of a range of activities that were typically executed at the household
level. In the Turks & Caicos, ceramics, shell tools, fire-cracked rocks, and darker soils are
excellent hallmarks of a site. When found in appreciable quantities, these indicate that humans
were carrying out many or all aspects of their daily routines at that particular place for an
appreciable period of time. Second, activity areas are places where indigenous peoples carried
out a particular task. These contain evidence related to a specific behavior or highly
circumscribed set of behaviors that do not include daily household domestic activities. In the
Turks & Caicos, large shell piles indicate that mollusks were processed at a particular locale, and
deposits of clay may have been where people collected material for ceramic production.
Examples from elsewhere in the West Indies could include chert quarries in Antigua and turtle
butchering camps in the Grenadines. Finally, pot drops are isolated occurrences of small
amounts of ceramics that do not include meaningful evidence of any other domestic activity.
They could reflect something as simple as a lunch break at the canuco plot or an overnight camp
by hunters or fishermen.
The excavations involved only “sites”, and were designed to determine, in general terms,
how each site fit into the regional indigenous settlement pattern. Because none of the sites had
been excavated, establishing a culture history was a basic goal. We worked to ascertain cultural
affiliation and chronology through ceramic analyses and radiometric dating. We conducted
24
thorough surface examinations in conjunction with subsurface testing to identify features and
determine site layout and usage over time. This data enabled us to evaluate how sites were
economically and socially integrated, and hypothesize on the role each site played in the regional
settlement pattern over its history.
Categories of Small Cay Sites
There is great diversity in the size and scale of small cay sites, but each seems to fall into
one of three categories. Of the 18 cays included in the study, 11 bear evidence of indigenous
activity. This evidence ranges from scattered piles of conch bearing the familiar “Indian kill
hole” (a small circular perforation that results from smashing the spire of one conch into the
whorl of another to facilitate removal of the animal—such conch shells are known as “punched”
conch), to abundant and diverse cultural material, house outlines, and other features, scattered
over more than half a hectare. This indicates that small cays were used by indigenous peoples
for a variety of purposes. Generally speaking, the six sites we excavated fall into one of three
categories: Outpost, Economic Hub, and Ritual Center. I want to stress from the onset that this
classification scheme is not meant to pigeonhole sites or oversimplify the range of human
activity that formed these sites over the generations. Rather, I offer it as a framework to
understand the range of uses that indigenous peoples had for the many small islands that dotted
their landscape. This is achieved by identifying certain recurring trends, then using these trends
to determine what kinds of activities seemed central to the people who were there.
In a paper I gave at the 2008 Society for American Archaeology meetings, I presented a
brief overview of this dissertation. In it, I described the first category of small cay site as a “Fish
Camp”, which is distinct from other types of sites:
Fish Camps are the smallest sites, both dimensionally and in depth of deposit.
They also appear to be the least intensively occupied, suggesting that the people
25
who lived there were transient or perhaps returned on an occasional basis. The
artifact assemblage of a Fish Camp is limited in frequency and range of cultural
material. The ceramic assemblage is minimal and consists primarily or even
exclusively of undecorated, utilitarian wares. Few if any diagnostically
ceremonial objects are present. The tool kit consists mostly of locally-
manufactured, expedient shell implements, and imported materials like
greenstone are generally absent. The faunal assemblage is restricted in scope.
Locally-available taxa are usually overrepresented, suggesting that harvesting
these resources may have been a driving force behind the occupation (Sinelli
2008).
In retrospect, the term “Fish Camp” seems unnecessarily limiting. I now think the term
“Outpost” better reflects the data. People at an “Outpost” site could still focus on fish, of course.
But the more general nature of the term better accommodates the full range of economic
activities that could be in evidence at any particular, small-scale site. Two of the sites we
excavated are Outposts: Gibbs Cay near Grand Turk, and CC-2 on Cotton Cay. These
excavations are described in Chapter 4.
“Economic Hubs” are the second category of small cay site:
[Economic Hub] sites are among the largest in the region, and rival
sites found on the large inhabited islands in both size and scope.
Economic Hubs were occupied by large numbers of people for a
long period of time. The artifact assemblage is diverse, and reflects
the full continuum of Lucayan behavior. There is an ample ceramic
assemblage and multiple series and/or subseries are well
represented. Vessel forms run the gamut from undecorated utility
wares to craft wares that were finely made, decorated, and
occasionally adorned. Ceremonial items like cemis are in evidence,
as are shell and/or stone beads and jewelry. Economic Hubs exhibit
the culture’s full array of technology, and imported or exotic goods
are relatively common, even when locally-made alternatives are
readily available. The faunal assemblage includes not only an array
of locally-available species, but also those that were collected
outside of the local catchment. Structures and other features are
present, and there may be evidence that areas of the site were
intentionally manipulated, through leveling or infill, to produce a
more desirable environment (Sinelli 2008).
26
Two of the sites we excavated are Economic Hubs. Middleton and Spud lie on the Caicos Bank
near South Caicos and are indeed among the larger sites in the Caicos Islands. Our work at these
sites is described in Chapter 5.
The final category of small cay site we identified is the “Ritual Center”:
Ritual Centers differ from the other types of small key sites in a
number of ways. First, the material culture recovered from Ritual
Centers skews toward those items classically associated with
individuals of status. The ceramic assemblage is characterized by a
higher proportion of decorated versus undecorated vessels, serving
vessels versus cooking vessels, craft vessels (such as effigy pots
and navicular bowls) versus common vessels, and in later periods,
imported vessels versus Palmetto Ware vessels. There is also a
higher incidence of ritual items than would be expected. Finally,
Ritual Centers seem to be located on very small keys within sight
of, and only a short linear distance from, one or more large sites on
bigger islands.
Ritual Center sites appear to have been associated with elite activities like feasting, and perhaps,
craft production. Pelican Cay off Middle Caicos is the archetypical Ritual Center. It and our
excavations at Dove Cay near South Caicos are discussed in Chapter 6.
Introduction to Turks & Caicos Archaeology
Overview
The Turks & Caicos Islands are comprised of more than 40 named islands and smaller
cays at the southeastern extreme of the Bahama archipelago. This island nation has been a
British Dependent Territory since the 18th century, and is politically distinct from the
Commonwealth of the Bahamas, which controls the islands to the north and west. To the south
lies the Greater Antillean island of Hispaniola, which is itself divided into the nations of the
Dominican Republic and Haiti. The next land mass east of the Turks & Caicos is Africa.
As the name implies, the Turks & Caicos are comprised of two distinct island groups.
Each group sits on its own bank—an ancient carbonate platform that rises to the surface from the
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floor of the North Atlantic. Waters on the banks around the islands are shallow, but immediately
plunge to thousands of meters at the platforms’ perimeter. The Turks Islands are the easternmost
islands, and are located on the Turks Bank. These include ten named islands, although only two
are currently populated. The Caicos Islands are the westerly group and lie on the Caicos Bank.
There are more than 30 islands and cays on the Caicos Bank, but only six are currently
populated. The 50-km-wide Columbus passage separates the two banks, and waters in this
channel are as much as 5 km deep.
Indigenous peoples first reached the Turks & Caicos in the 8th century (Carlson 1999).
Over the next 900 years, different groups from different areas of Hispaniola and possibly the
central Bahamas migrated in and colonized the area, drawn by a largely pristine ecology and
abundant marine and other natural resources. The migrants from Hispaniola maintained close
social and economic ties with their home communities, and there is abundant evidence of an
ongoing trade relationship between Turks & Caicos villages and settlements in modern Haiti and
the Dominican Republic.
I first became involved in Turks & Caicos archaeology in 1999, when I accompanied my
graduate advisor and a team of Earthwatch volunteers on a project to excavate two sites on
Middle Caicos. I was immediately captivated by these islands, their people, and the fascinating
history and archaeology, and resolved to conduct my own graduate research there. I returned to
Middle Caicos the next year, again to assist my graduate advisor and an Earthwatch team, and
excavated two sites on the south coast of the island as part of my master’s thesis research (Sinelli
2001). This experience opened my eyes to the Turks & Caicos Islands’ vast potential for
archaeological research.
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Archaeological research does not have a deep history in the Turks & Caicos. Scientific
investigations only began in the late 1970s. Since then, a handful of professional and
avocational archaeologists have developed a substantial body of knowledge from the ground up.
The islands’ prehistoric culture history is now well understood, as is the relationship between
Turks & Caicos settlements and other indigenous peoples in the region. My project was
designed to expand on their excellent work, some of which has not been accessible to a wider
audience.
Ceramic Chronology of the Turks & Caicos Islands
Irving Rouse, the father of modern Caribbean prehistoric archaeology, “once calculated
that 90% of all pre-Columbian artifacts from the West Indies are made of clay” (Keegan
1994:135). Because ceramics are central to understanding culture history, patterns of human
migration and trade, and the evolution of indigenous society in the region, it is important to be
familiar with the kinds of pottery found in Turks & Caicos sites.
There are four types of pottery recovered in the Turks & Caicos Islands. Three of these
types, Ostionan, Meillacan, and Chican, consist of clays and tempers that are not found in the
carbonate geology of the Bahama archipelago. These are known as “imported” vessels because
they were manufactured elsewhere, primarily in Hispaniola, and brought to the Turks & Caicos
via canoe. The fourth type of pottery, Palmetto ware, consists of a locally-available soil,
Bahama Red Loam. This soil originates in Africa, where it is stirred up in sand storms and
blown over the Atlantic. Over many years, it has accumulated into concentrated deposits in
certain low areas of the Bahama islands. The clay is almost always tempered with crushed conch
shell, which is widely available in the Bahama archipelago.
29
These four types of ceramics fall into a general chronology, but one that is far from
absolute (see Keegan 2007, Wilson 2007 for excellent syntheses of the debate). In the Turks &
Caicos, Ostionan ceramics are the oldest, followed by Meillacan, with a mix of Chican and
Palmetto Ware occurring later in prehistory. The dates associated with the following ceramic-
based phases are approximate, and certainly, there is some overlap and co-occurrence of multiple
ceramic types. Still, the dates represent the general timeframe in which a certain ceramic style
was most common in the Turks & Caicos.
Ostionan phase: AD 700 to AD 1150. Ostionan pottery was produced by people in
Puerto Rico and eastern Hispaniola. Ostionan-affiliated people established the first known
settlement in the Turks & Caicos, on Grand Turk, in the 8th century AD. Known as the Coralie
site, this settlement was periodically occupied for hundreds of years before it was permanently
abandoned in the 12th century AD (Carlson 1999). The Coralie site is the only Ostionan site in
the Turks & Caicos Islands.
Meillacan phase: AD 1150 to circa AD 1300. The date range for Meillacan ceramics is
perhaps the most controversial of any ceramic type found in the region. The mid-12th century
date for the beginning of the Meillacan phase in the Turks & Caicos is solid, supported by
radiocarbon evidence from more than half a dozen sites in both the Turks Islands and Caicos
Islands. However, the circa AD 1300 date for the end of the Meillacan Phase in the Turks &
Caicos remains somewhat speculative. Indeed, this project yielded evidence that Meillacan
ceramics were in use as recently as the late 14th century AD (see Chapter 6). As it is beyond the
scope of this dissertation to delve too deeply into the details of the debate, I suggest that the AD
1300 date should be viewed as the approximate time that Meillacan ceramics were being phased
out and used less frequently in the Turks & Caicos than in previous centuries. Picture it this
30
way: if the dates for Meillacan ceramics in the Turks & Caicos were plotted on a histogram or
“battleship” chart that displays frequency over time, then the range I offer would correspond to
the fattest parts of the “battleship” shaped figure for Meillacan ceramics in the region.
Lucayan phase: circa AD 1300 to AD 1513 (1620?). The Lucayan phase ceramics
include both Chican vessels imported from the Greater Antilles and locally-produced Palmetto
ware vessels. Chican vessels are associated with the Classic Taino of Hispaniola, who began to
manufacture these ceramics in the 13th century AD (Rouse 1992). Although other ceramics
(such as Meillacan) continued to be produced in certain parts of the island, Chican soon became
the dominant motif as the Taino chiefdoms gained hegemony over the island. As this occurred,
fewer Meillacan vessels and more Chican pots were imported to the Turks & Caicos. As stated
above, the AD 1300 cutoff date is not intended to be absolute, but as a useful approximation of
when this shift in styles was affected. In a similar vein, it is known that Palmetto ware was
manufactured in the Turks & Caicos as early as the 11th century AD (Keegan 2007:56). Yet it
did not become widespread in the region until the 14th century. Again, this is an approximate
date intended to provide the reader with a general idea of when each type of ceramic was most
prevalent.
The Significance of Shell Bead Manufacture in the Turks & Caicos Islands
Beadmaking is one of the few constants archaeologists have observed at sites in the Turks
& Caicos across both time and space. It seems that virtually everyone was doing it, although far
more intensively at some sites and times than at others. Because beadmaking was so ubiquitous,
it is important to understand from the outset the underlying economic and social reasons behind
this phenomenon.
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Beginning with Shaun Sullivan, archaeologists have broadly understood that the people
who settled the Turks & Caicos Islands did so to exploit the area’s resources. Today, the
economics of the situation are well understood. Coastal people living in northern Hispaniola
enjoyed a certain standard of living that, as time progressed, began to deteriorate. Relatively
little formal archaeology has been conducted at pre-AD 1300 sites in Haiti, but evidence from Ile
à Rat suggests that the fisheries in the northeastern part of the country were over-exploited
perhaps as early as AD 900, but certainly by AD 1100 (Keegan 1997b, 2007:58-64). In contrast,
the Turks & Caicos were virtually pristine, with vast, abundant resources that had never been
subjected to anything more than cursory human predation (Sinelli 2001:8-10, 122-127). In
relatively short order, Meillacan-affiliated peoples begin popping up all over the Turks & Caicos:
on Grand Turk (Carlson 1993), Gibbs Cay and Cotton Cay (Chapter 4), Middleton and Spud
(Chapter 5), Salt Cay (Keegan et al 1994), Middle Caicos (Sullivan 1981, Keegan 1997a, Sinelli
2001), Pine Cay and Providenciales (Sullivan 1981, Carlson 1999), the Ambergris Cays (Brian
Riggs, personal communication 2004). Radiocarbon dates from those sites which have been
excavated place all of these settlements within the 12th and 13th centuries AD. Thus began the
centuries-long period of resource procurement and trade in which foodstuffs and raw materials
flowed to Hispaniola in exchange for finished goods not obtainable in the Bahama archipelago.
In many ways this was a miniature version of Wallerstein’s (1974) Modern World System that
defined European nations’ relationship with the West Indies centuries later. Except in
prehistory, Hispaniola was the “core” and the Turks & Caicos the “periphery”.
The indigenous Turks & Caicos economy grew and evolved between the 12th and 16th
centuries. Preserved fish and conch were among the earliest exports and probably constituted a
significant portion of the economy throughout the pre-Columbian period. Indeed, conch remains
32
the largest Turks & Caicos export to Haiti to this very day. Based upon the discovery at
Middleton, shell tools also seem to have been exported. Salt and possibly cotton from Middle
Caicos became significant in the 15th century and led to the development of the “Taino outpost”
of MC-6 on Middle Caicos (Sullivan 1981, Keegan 2007:135). And through it all, many people
in the Turks & Caicos were also making beads.
Unlike food, tools, and salt, beads are not critical to human biological survival. Yet they
played a seminal role in the social and political realms of Hispaniolan society, so they possess a
certain cultural significance that cannot be diminished. Hispaniolans incorporated beads into
socio-religious items like chiefly woven cotton belts and cemis (Taylor et al. 1997). They also
wore strings of beads for personal decoration (Carlson 1993), and used them in ritual contexts,
such as burials (Deagan 2004:618-619). In sum, beads were a critical component of the
indigenous worldview, linked to everything from status and chiefly authority to ancestor worship
and the supernatural realm, with a history that extended back thousands of years to their South
American roots (Taylor et al. 1997:164-169). To these people beads were, and always had been,
important.
It is known that Hispaniolans made beads out of local shell and stone. Thus it is unlikely
that the people who first voyaged to the islands did so expressly to produce beads—there was not
necessarily a shortage, as has been hypothesized for marine food resources. Rather, the early
visitors probably discovered that beadmaking could be a highly lucrative export in addition to the
foodstuffs that probably attracted them to the islands initially. This situation is somewhat
analogous to the discovery of gold at Coloma, California in 1848, where John Sutter had ordered
built a water-powered sawmill to produce lumber for his expanding business interests (Sutter
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2009 [ 1854]). In fact, it may be helpful to view the early Turks & Caicos beadmaking industry
in terms of a “gold rush” mentality, for there are a number of parallels.
Keegan (2007) argues that beadmaking became an integral part of the Turks & Caicos
economy because beads produced there would have been more valuable in Hispaniola than those
produced domestically. I agree, and have fleshed out his argument with some insights of my
own. The first reason Turks & Caicos beadmaking became economically significant relates to
the Hispaniolan worldview. Although the Turks & Caicos beadmakers used conch, clams, top
shell, and other mollusks to produce beads, the cherry jewelbox (Chama sarda) was clearly the
preferred medium. This shell was special, for its deep scarlet hue coincided with the color of life
and fertility (Keegan 2007:22). Moreover, the shell maintains its vibrancy over time: “While the
bright pink of the [conch] will fade to white within a decade, we recovered Chama shells that
were a brilliant scarlet after 800 years of burial” (Keegan 2007:88). Thus, beads manufactured
from the shells of this mollusk would have had both immediate and enduring value—just like
gold. The second reason is availability. The cherry jewelbox mollusk affixes itself to some solid
object in shallow water (Abbott and Morris 1995:53-54). Thus, the rocks and cays strewn across
the calm shallows of the Turks and Caicos Banks would have been prime collecting grounds.
Their waters could yield much more raw material than the comparatively deep and rough coasts
of northern Hispaniola, and at less cost and risk even when the round-trip voyage is factored in.
The beadmakers could literally pluck wealth out of the shallow water—just like the gold-hungry
49ers did in California. Third is the ease of transport. One could conceivably transport many
thousands of beads in a single dugout (although I assume they heeded the old Taino adage ‘Don’t
put all of your beads in one canoe!’). This makes beads far more valuable by weight than any
other exportable product—just like gold. Finally, Keegan observed that exotic things imported
34
from beyond the horizon tend to be viewed as inherently more valuable than locally produced
items (2007:88). This must be a sort of human universal. Here the gold analogy is less
appropriate, but the concept is effectively conveyed if one considers the average American’s
view of French champagne, Swiss watches, and Italian sports cars as compared to domestic
brands.
Keegan sums the entire argument up nicely with a description of the beads produced at
the Meillacan-era bead manufacturing site at Governor’s Beach:
These beads were imbued with a value beyond the labor invested in
them. They were red, the color of life and male potency, and they
came from a place far away, across the sea. The beads were exotic
and thus of greater value than objects that could be fashioned
locally…In this case it was the value added to objects that come
from across the sea and that differ in symbolic ways (for example,
brilliant red color) from materials available at home (2007:88).
Again, it seems unlikely that beads were the primary motivator behind the colonization. Rather,
the early Meillacan pioneers who visited the Turks & Caicos to collect foodstuffs stumbled upon
an abundance of bright red shells in the banks’ shallows and quickly realized that they had
literally struck “red gold.” That beadmaking was consistently profitable is evidenced by the fact
that they and all of the people who followed them centuries later continued to engage in this
activity. Beads never formed the foundation of the economy, but their inherent value caused
them to remain an important part of regional trade throughout much of the Turks & Caicos
Islands’ indigenous history.
The results of our surveys and excavations at each of the 18 small cay environments are
described in detail in this volume. Chapters 2 and 3 address the surveys on the Caicos Bank and
Turks Bank, respectively. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 present the results of excavations at two sites on
35
the Turks Bank and four sites on the Caicos Bank. Finally, Chapter 7 provides a general
overview and summary of what I learned, and presents a few ideas for future research.
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Table 1-1. Inventory of Cays Surveyed and Sites Identified by the Field School
Cay Nearest Island Site Type (#) Excavated? Cultural Affiliation*
Pelican Cay Middle Caicos Ritual Center Yes M, C, P
Long Cay South Caicos Economic Hub (1) Yes M, C, P
Activity Areas (4)
Middleton Cay South Caicos Economic Hub Yes M, C, P
Moxie Bush South Caicos No Site - -
Six Hills Cays South Caicos No Site - -
Iguana Cay South Caicos No Site - -
Horse Cay South Caicos Outpost or No M, C?
Economic Hub (1)
Dove Cay South Caicos Outpost or Ritual Yes Unknown
Center (1)
Plandon Cay South Caicos Outpost or No Unknown
Activity Area (1)
Middle Creek South Caicos / No Site - -
Cay East Caicos
Riley Rock East Caicos No Site - -
Gibbs Cay Grand Turk Outpost Yes M
Long Cay Grand Turk Activity Area No P?
Pinzon Cay Grand Turk Activity Area No Unknown
East Cay Grand Turk No Site - -
Cotton Cay Grand Turk Outposts (2) Yes C, P
Great Sand Cay Salt Cay No Site - -
Salt Cay Salt Cay Outpost No C, P
* M = Meillacan Ceramics C = Chican Ceramics P = Palmetto Ware
37
Figure 1-1. Map of Turks & Caicos Islands with relevant sites identified.
38
CHAPTER 2
THE CAICOS BANK SURVEYS
This chapter describes the surveys of cays situated on the Caicos Bank. I begin with a
review of the geography, physical nature, and biology of the Caicos Bank and its islands. Next I
discuss the logistical and theoretical considerations that helped shape the parameters of the
survey and review the methods and strategies we employed. Thereafter, I discuss the survey of
each island in detail, and conclude each discussion with an interpretation of how each individual
piece may have fit into the larger regional picture.
Geographical, Physical, and Biological Descriptions of the Caicos Bank
Geography of the Caicos Bank
The Caicos Bank is the largest of the three banks in Turks & Caicos territorial waters and
covers an area of 6,856 square kilometers (Keegan et al. 2008:Table 1). More than 40 named
islands and cays ring the Caicos Bank (Figure 2-1), with numerous rocks and intermittently
exposed tidal shoals and reefs interspersed throughout. Combined, these islands cover a total
area of 589.6 square kilometers (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). The
largest land masses are arranged in a northward-bowing crescent shape along the bank’s northern
and eastern flanks. Not surprisingly, these largest islands are the only ones that now support
permanent human populations. Currently, only six of these islands are occupied: from west to
east—Providenciales, Pine Cay, Parrot Cay, North Caicos, Middle Caicos, and South Caicos.
The tally of inhabited islands will increase, however, as developments on West Caicos, Big
Ambergris Cay, and Dellis Cay come on line within the next several years (Turks & Caicos
Tourist Board 2007). Moreover, given the pace of development in the region, it is easy to
imagine that East Caicos—currently home to no one but feral cattle—might sprout posh resorts
in the near future.
39
The western and southern flanks of the Caicos Bank are dotted with approximately three
dozen presently uninhabited cays (Figure 2-1). Many are quite remote and lie more than 50 km
from the nearest inhabited island. Consequently, these cays have largely escaped development.
Some are even protected by the government as the French, Bush, and Seal Cays Sanctuary
(Department of Environment and Coastal Resources 2007; Pienkowski et al 2005). Tourists,
drawn to dive the stunning Caicos Bank wall nearby, are allowed to visit, but only under strict
government guidelines.
Physical Description of the Caicos Bank
The Caicos Bank is a vibrant and dynamic place. While most of the bank’s area is
permanently submerged at depths ranging from 3 to 10 meters, substantial portions of the
northeastern section between South, East, and Middle Caicos are exposed at low tide. By all
accounts this gradual expansion of the tidal shoals is a recent, and possibly transient
phenomenon. When I flew over the banks on several occasions in 1999, this area always
appeared to be completely submerged. Soon thereafter, during my visits in 2000 and 2001, I
noticed small “islets” of exposed sand peeking out of the water. Then in 2004, when exploring
the region by boat, I observed that vast areas of the banks adjacent to South Caicos were
completely dry when the tide went out—almost to the point that one could walk from South
Caicos to Middle Caicos. My informal observations were confirmed by the School for Field
Studies staff who had been plying the local waters for years. They reported that some of their
preferred research sites were now only reachable at high tide, while others were off limits
entirely due to the danger of grounding or damaging the props of their flat-bottomed skiff
research vessels (Bob Bose, personal communication 2004). My informal conversations with
local South Caicos fishermen offered further insight. Several complained about the increasing
40
difficulty in navigating their boats northwest of the island. “That sand is always shifting.” I
recorded one fisherman’s lament during a conversation at a local watering hole. “We can’t fish
the rocks by East Caicos no more. You gotta walk or ride the airboat. And I ain’t gonna walk,
and I ain’t got no airboat!” I inquired further as to whether this phenomenon had happened
before, and then had somehow abated. The reply was a shrug, although my informant did
volunteer that “Maybe a big storm come and clear it out for us.” From this statement I inferred
that the tropical cyclones that have abused the Turks & Caicos since time immemorial continue
to play an active role in sculpting the bathyscaphe in ways that directly impact those who rely
upon it for their livelihood. While it is impossible to accurately reconstruct the bank’s precise
appearance in prehistory, it is entirely reasonable to assume that indigenous people had to cope
with the same forces that shape the bank today. Consequently, it is important to consider the
natural shifts in the bank’s morphology when studying settlement and resource exploitation
patterns—whether modern or prehistoric.
Biology of the Caicos Bank
The Caicos Bank has always been known for its marine bounty. As the largest of the
three banks in the nation’s waters, the Caicos Bank boasts more than two-thirds of the Turks &
Caicos’ 300 km of reefs and nearly 80% of the nation’s territorial marine bank area. I begin this
section with a brief overview of reef and bank biology. I then discuss the state of the modern
Caicos Bank fishery and why this is important to understanding prehistory. Finally I review the
particular species that were of interest to the indigenous settlers of the region.
Overview of reef and bank fauna
There are two types of reefs on the Caicos Bank: shallow and deep. Shallow reefs are 3
to 4 meters deep and are distributed somewhat arbitrarily around the bank, but tend to cluster
41
around islands. Deep or “fringing” reefs are 15 to 20 meters deep and are found only at the
bank’s edges where the water outside the reef rapidly drops off to thousands of meters in depth
(Tupper and Rudd 2002:485). An extraordinary array of marine life populates these reefs.
Scientists and volunteers affiliated with the Reef Environmental Education Foundation have
recorded no fewer than 318 species of fishes on and around reefs in Turks & Caicos waters (Reef
Environmental Education Foundation 2007). Corals, mollusks, crustaceans, and other
invertebrates are also abundant in the reef environment. Some of these reef species, particularly
the Caribbean spiny lobster (Panulirus argus), have been consistently exploited by humans
throughout history.
As one moves away from the reefs and into the open waters of the bank, the faunal
assemblage shifts profoundly. Fishes are certainly present but not in the diversity one would
encounter on a reef. The most common of the bank fishes are bonefish (Albula sp.), which thrive
in the turtle grass beds common in these shallow waters (Wing and Scudder 1983:197).
Mollusks dominate the remaining biomass, especially the Queen Conch (Strombus gigas), a large
gastropod that favors the bank’s grass beds and has been a staple of the Turks & Caicos human
diet for more than a thousand years. A variety of other mollusks, such as the bivalves Codakia
orbicularis and several species of the genus Tellina, the littoral gastropod Cittarium pica (whelk
or West Indian Topsnail), and others have been important to human foragers at various times in
history.
The modern Caicos Bank fishery
Today, the Turks & Caicos fishing industry is the third largest sector of the national
economy, behind tourism and financial services. It employs approximately 8% of the national
labor force (75% on South Caicos) and accounts for 10% of national GDP (Clerveaux et al.
42
2003:172). The main commercial catches are conch and lobster—these products account for
90% of the nation’s total exports. Fin-fish like snapper and grouper are also exploited, but
primarily for sport and domestic consumption (Turks & Caicos Islands Government, Department
of Environmental and Coastal Resources 2004:2). During the 2003-2004 season, (the most
recent season from which data are available), The Turks & Caicos fishery produced landings of
388 metric tons of spiny lobster, 680 metric tons of conch, and 1,068 metric tons of “various reef
fish” that includes “groupers, snappers, and large pelagics…utilized for local consumption or as
part of the sport fishery” (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics 2008a). Of this
catch, the Turks and Caicos exported nearly 300 tons of lobster (77% of the total catch), 400 tons
of wild conch meat (59% of the total catch), and 30 additional tons of farmed conch meat (Turks
& Caicos Islands Government, Department of Environmental and Coastal Resources 2004:9-10).
As mentioned above, fish are not exported, but caught for local consumption or for sport.
Since the economic stakes are so high, the sustainability of these vital fisheries is a
Government priority. Conch and lobster yields have fluctuated wildly over time, but due to
aggressive regulation and improved enforcement, landings have stabilized over the last decade
and now fall in line with official production quotas, or nearly so. Both fisheries operate under
the “Maximum Sustainable Yield” that ensures a suitable breeding population and stable stock
size. Even though poaching of undersized lobsters remains a problem (Tewfik and Bene 2004),
barring some unforeseen disaster, the Caicos Bank should continue to provide more than 1000
tons of conch and lobster per year in perpetuity.
The productivity of the modern Caicos Bank fishery is relevant to any discussion of
regional prehistoric colonization and settlement patterns. Consider the conch fishery. For the
last 100 years Turks & Caicos fishermen have harvested between 1 and 4 million individual
43
conchs per year (Bene and Tewfik 2001:165). Until the 1950s, much of the catch was exported
to Haiti (Doran 1958) in exchange for fresh produce. More recently, the United States has
emerged as the greatest importer of Caicos conch, driven by demand from immigrants who
migrated from Caribbean Basin nations where conch was a common commodity (Hesse and
Hesse 1977). Under the current government landing target—around 750 tons of conch meat per
annum—more than a million individual conchs are harvested annually while still maintaining a
“stable” population. These are extraordinary numbers. The banks have so many conch that they
satisfy nearly 30,000 permanent residents and tens of thousands of fritter-hungry tourists, and
still support exports of 400 metric tons per year. Few fisheries in the world remain so productive
in the face of development and widespread overexploitation driven by increasing global demand
for seafood. The Caicos Bank is truly exceptional.
Consider that prehistoric human populations were orders of magnitude smaller than
today’s census figures. The Turks & Caicos were never densely occupied—even an estimate of
a thousand souls spread across the archipelago at any given time is probably an overestimate.
Consider further that the modern conch fishery, productive as it is, has been regularly exploited
by colonial Europeans, African slaves, and their descendants for more than 350 years. The
islands’ early inhabitants would have arrived to a virtually pristine ecology that had never seen
much, if any, human predation. These factors point to a scenario in prehistory, when conch were
so plentiful that even a determined effort to eradicate them would almost certainly have met with
failure. The early Lucayans and their descendants would have had all the conch they could ever
hope to consume, plus plenty more to dry and export as trade items to other islands and
localities.
44
Caicos Bank exploitation in prehistory
Clearly conch and lobster were important parts of the prehistoric diet and economy.
But variety has always been the spice of life, and by no means did the indigenous people of the
Turks & Caicos limit themselves to a menu of giant marine snails and crustaceans. A number of
studies of prehistoric diets have been completed for the Turks & Caicos Islands (Sullivan 1981;
Wing and Scudder 1983; Carlson 1999; Keegan 1997; Jones O’Day 2002). The most relevant to
this analysis is Wing and Scudder’s 1983 piece “Animal Exploitation by Prehistoric People
Living on a Tropical Edge.” The article focuses on the vertebrate resources extracted from the
Caicos Bank. It complements what is known from other sources about the bank’s extraordinary
conch and lobster resources to create a fuller picture of marine-based indigenous subsistence.
Wing and Scudder examined faunal material recovered from three sites in the Caicos
Islands. Two are located on Middle Caicos and these results are most relevant to this discussion.
Sites MC-12 and MC-6 lie only 5 km apart as the crow flies, but are located on opposite sides of
the island with access to distinctly different kinds of marine resources. The MC-12 site is
located “on the northern shore of the island within 1 km of a coral reef” and the open ocean
(Wing and Scudder 1983:197). Its ceramic assemblage is primarily Palmetto ware, and the site
has been radiocarbon dated to AD 1040 (Keegan 1997:56). These attributes indicate that MC-12
was contemporaneous with many of the early occupation horizons at the sites I discuss later in
this dissertation, which makes it an ideal site for determining what resources were available in
the region at that time. In contrast, MC-6 is situated “on the south side of the island on the edge
of the tidal flats which border the lagoon [i.e., the Caicos Bank]” (Wing and Scudder 1983:197).
Its ceramic assemblage is Palmetto Ware and Chican. The site’s earliest radiocarbon date is AD
1430, and the discovery of European brass in the deposits indicates that MC-6 was active after
45
Spanish contact (Keegan 2007:182). Wing and Scudder’s MC-6 results provide us with a clear
picture of what later prehistoric peoples were eating when they focused heavily on bank
resources.
Wing and Scudder’s analysis of the vertebrate faunal assemblages at MC-12 and MC-6
demonstrates the range of marine resources available to indigenous peoples on the Caicos Bank.
Importantly, the differences between the two sites suggest that in prehistory, people acquired
much of what they ate from the area immediately around them and did not need to venture far
afield to acquire enough protein to eat. When one considers the significant caloric contribution of
mollusks and lobster in context with Wing and Scudder’s appraisal of the value of vertebrates to
the diet, it seems evident that the Caicos Bank was so productive that individual villages could
easily support themselves by adjusting their foraging and collection techniques to suit the locally
available fauna (1983:209).
Wing and Scudder’s findings have important theoretical implications for my study of
small-island environments. They observed that the indigenous people of Middle Caicos acquired
between 75 and 85% of their vertebrate protein from the sea. In reality, the total contribution of
marine protein in the diet had to have been even higher since their analysis did not consider
mollusks like conch or crustaceans like lobster. In terms of land area, Middle Caicos is the
largest island in the Turks and Caicos, and as such could be expected to support a concomitantly
large array of terrestrial fauna. Yet according to Wing and Scudder, indigenous people were not
relying heavily upon these resources—they overwhelmingly foraged for protein in the sea. It
follows that their settlement strategies would reflect this preference. They would want to live
where the food was, and their food was in the water. As a consequence, small islands that
offered easy access to these resources would have been highly desirable places to settle.
46
Wing and Scudder identified 23 taxa in the vertebrate faunal assemblage at MC-12
(1983:201-202). Marine taxa account for 18 of the 23 taxa identified, and represent 75.3% of the
Estimates of Maximum Biomass (hereafter EMB). Seventeen of the 18 taxa of marine
vertebrates were fishes. The fish assemblage was dominated by taxa that inhabit reefs. Five taxa
of omnivorous reef fishes account for 41.1% of EMB. These include parrotfishes (Sprisoma and
Scaridae), that together were the most abundant individual taxa observed at the site.
Interestingly, these data provide insight into the fishing technology employed by the people of
MC-12. Wing and Scudder observed that these “reef omnivores” were all of similar size, and
interpret this data as evidence that the residents of MC-12 were probably using traps placed on
reefs to collect them. “Traps by their nature narrow the range in the size of fishes they catch by
excluding those fishes too large to enter and those small enough to leave through the mesh”
(1983:209). Nine of the remaining 12 taxa of fishes were “reef carnivores” that were probably
collected by hook and line (Wing and Scudder 1983:203,209), although these predators can also
be trapped if the enter a trapping device in pursuit of prey fishes who are already trapped
themselves (Keegan 1986:822). Reef carnivores account for 29.5% of EMB. Rounding out the
fish assemblage were 3 taxa of fishes found not on the reefs, but in shallow water near the beach
and on the tidal flats. Bonefish (Albula vulpes) dominated this aspect of the assemblage—the
other two taxa were each represented by a single specimen. Overall, these taxa were a small
component of the total assemblage, accounting for only 3.9% of EMB (Wing and Scudder
1983:202). The last of the 18 marine vertebrate taxa identified was sea turtle. It accounted for
4.2% of EMB, which means that turtles were as significant a food source as shallow-dwelling
flats fishes like bonefish (Wing and Scudder 1983:202).
47
Five terrestrial animals were identified in the study, accounting for 17.2% of EMB. Land
crab was the most prevalent taxon, at 7.5% of EMB. The remainder consisted primarily of
iguana (Cyclura carinata), although two taxa of birds were recovered in small amounts (Wing
and Scudder 1983:202). The remains of a dog were also identified, which corroborates
Columbus’ testimony that the Lucayans kept these animals (Dunn and Kelley 1989:117). It is
unknown if they ate dog, or rather kept them as pets or for rodent control (Wing and Scudder
1983:209).
The vertebrate faunal assemblage at MC-6 is remarkably different from that of MC-12
and reflects an emphasis on resources found in the nearby tidal flats. At MC-6, Wing and
Scudder identified 38 taxa in the assemblage (1983:200-201). Again, there was a heavy
concentration of marine resources. Marine taxa accounted for 28 of the 38 total taxa and
comprised 85.7% of EMB. Twenty-seven of the 28 marine taxa were fishes, of which 20 were
reef-dwelling fishes. This reflects a greater diversity of reef-dwellers than were recovered at
MC-12, but overall their contribution to EMB at MC-6 was less than half of the total at the other
site: 32.3% at MC-6 compared to 70.6% at MC-12. Of the reef fishes, there were 5 taxa of “reef
omnivores” comprising 9.9% of EMB and 15 taxa of “reef carnivores” comprising 22.4% of
EMB (Wing and Scudder 1983:200-201). Not surprisingly, tidal flats taxa filled the difference.
Seven taxa of tidal flats fishes, with bonefish again being the overwhelming favorite, accounted
for 15.5% of the EMB. The only non-fish marine vertebrate recovered was sea turtle. These
thrive in the grasses of the shallows and constituted a remarkable 19.8% of EMB. As such, sea
turtle is the single largest taxon in terms of contribution to EMB in the assemblage.
The residents of MC-6 exploited terrestrial creatures as well. Ten taxa were identified,
accounting for 14.3% of EMB. Iguana dominated the terrestrial assemblage with 10.2% of
48
EMB. Land crabs were present, but accounted for only 1.6% of EMB. Wing and Scudder
(1983) identified 4 bird taxa, but none in substantial amounts. More recently, Dr. David
Steadman of the Florida Museum of Natural History found 17 taxa of bird in his analysis of
material recovered from 1999 and 2000 excavations at MC-6 (Keegan 2007:179). This suggests
that avifauna played a more substantial role in the MC-6 diet than Wing and Scudder could
ascertain with the earlier samples.
Survey Theory and Methodology
Survey Theory
As my objective was to identify outlying cays that were used by indigenous peoples, it
seemed reasonable to focus our surveys on those islands that had the greatest potential to remain
easily accessible within open water and lay near a wide variety of marine habitat. In reaching
this decision, I was often troubled by the fact that the current situation may not be representative
of what the region looked like centuries ago. I recognize that there are probably some sites on
the smaller cays northwest of South Caicos and on the southern shore of East Caicos, and I
certainly plan to find out someday. However, given the practical issues of the moment and the
theoretical factors about which one can only hypothesize, I decided to focus the survey on the
cays west and south of South Caicos in the eastern Caicos Bank.
The geography, biology, and physical nature of the Caicos Bank were on my mind as I
crafted an appropriate survey strategy. I initially chose the South Caicos region for purely
practical reasons. First and foremost, I wanted to excavate the sites that had been reported by
Bob Gascione, Jane Minty, and Brian Riggs on Middleton Cay and Long Cay. Since these cays
were at most a 15 minute boat ride from South Caicos, it was natural to base our operations out
of that island. Second, South Caicos is home to the School for Field Studies’ Center for Marine
49
Resource Studies. SFS has a fully equipped field station, a trained, professional staff, and
offered room and board and all the local knowledge and logistical support the team would need
for an extended stay—and all at a reasonable price. Finally, there are a large number of small
cays within a reasonable linear distance of Cockburn Harbour, South Caicos. Operating out of
that island would optimize the number of small cays within reach given the limited time and
resources available. Given these factors, I decided very early on to base the squad on South
Caicos. Yet upon our arrival in the islands, I had to develop a more precise model to determine
which of the many small cays in the region to visit.
Logistics were a major factor in crafting the survey strategy. As discussed above, small
cays north and northwest of South Caicos are virtually impossible to reach by boat. To survey
these islands, one must either hire an airboat at enormous expense or slog several kilometers
through the soupy oolitic muck on foot. Therefore, I resolved to focus on those cays that were
more readily accessible.
There were also several important theoretical considerations. The people who colonized
the region were mariners extraordinaire. They relied on the sea for everything from the
mundane (e.g. food and transportation) to the ethereal (e.g. mythology and gods). Based on
personal observation and local wisdom, it was apparent that at various times some areas of the
Caicos Bank silt in to the point of impeding the passage of watercraft. Exactly how or why this
happens is irrelevant: sea-savvy indigenous peoples would have understood it far better than I,
and it would have influenced their decision-making process. Evidently, potential habitation sites
in this environment could become virtually inaccessible by water in as little as 5 years. Mindful
of the fact that all of the Turks and Caicos’ prehistoric residents relied on quick access to the sea
for much of their physical and spiritual well-being, I concluded that areas prone to silting would
50
likely have been viewed by these peoples as less suitable for longer term settlement than locales
in which the constantly shifting sands were less of an issue. The distribution of marine habitats
also weighed into the theoretical discussion. As discussed earlier, conch and mollusks are
abundant on the banks. Bonefish are found in the flats and also around mangrove stands. Reef
fishes and lobsters naturally congregate on and around the reefs that fringe the bank’s border.
Pelagic fishes are found further out in open water, but also frequent the deeper, fringing reefs to
feed. Wing and Scudder (1983) demonstrated that marine animals provided the bulk of protein
in the indigenous diet. As a result, potential habitation sites that offered good access to marine
environments would have been viewed favorably. Once again, this pointed to the cays south and
southwest of South Caicos, where conch habitat, mollusk habitat, reef habitat, and open ocean
habitat were all within easy reach.
Survey Methodology
On survey days on the Caicos Bank, I split the group into teams. One team continued to
work excavations under the direction of Geoff DuChemin, while a second, smaller team joined
me on the survey. I usually selected three or four students, on a rotating basis, so that every
student had a chance to gain some survey experience. Each survey team received a detailed
lesson about proper survey technique before we departed for the target island. As we had all
been excavating for some time prior to beginning the survey phase of the project, each student
already knew “what a site looks like” when one walks over it. I found it far more challenging to
explain the concept of settlement pattern. Although I tried to emphasize the particular
environmental features that are associated with West Indian sites (e.g.: “look behind the dune by
a sandy beach”), I still had to call people off rocks high up the windward bluffs with
exasperating frequency. But these were teaching moments—before long each student was
51
picking through the bush like a seasoned veteran. Depending on the size of the survey target, we
either worked as a group or split into pairs or threesomes to cover more ground. When we were
separated, as on Long Cay or Six Hills Cays, I kept in constant radio contact with the other group
to keep apprised of their discoveries, field any questions, and direct them to features that I
thought looked promising. I always kept in contact via marine radio with the research vessel that
kept station off the island in case bad weather approached or we had an emergency.
The particulars of each cay’s survey are discussed in detail below.
Survey Results
The team surveyed nine cays on the Caicos Bank. Each island is discussed below in the
chronological order in which it was surveyed. In each case I first describe the cay’s location and
offer a brief physical description. Next I discuss the particulars of the survey: when it occurred
and what was discovered or observed. Finally I interpret these results and examine what role
each individual cay may have played in the lives of indigenous peoples. A comprehensive
summary of what I learned from the surveys follows at the end of the chapter.
The Survey Of Long Cay
Physical description and survey methodology
Long Cay is aptly named (Figure 2-2). It extends 4.75 km on a roughly northeast-to-
southwest axis, and comprises a total land area of 96.78 hectares (Department of Economic
Planning and Statistics 2008b). The island is also quite narrow. The southern half of the island
averages about 250 meters wide; the northern half rarely exceeds 75 meters in width. At a point
just south of the center of the cay’s length, the dry land extends westward, where it attains its
maximum width of a little more than 600 meters. There is a fairly wide, sandy beach on the
52
island’s western side at this widest point; however, the surrounding inland area is low, flat,
marshy, and very likely prone to periodic flooding (Figure 2-3).
Today, Long Cay is part of the Admiral Cockburn Land & Sea National Park
(Department of Environment and Coastal Resources 2007). For years, the island was dominated
by feral goats and housecats that had been left behind by squatters and itinerant fishermen.
These animals decimated the indigenous vegetation and hunted to extirpation the island’s native
reptile species and migratory bird populations (Brian Riggs, personal communication 2004).
Thanks to a decades-long eradication, restoration, and reintroduction program that began in the
early 1970s, Long Cay is now a thriving wildlife sanctuary. Native rock iguanas (Cyclura
carinata)—many exceeding a meter in length—now prowl the island as they must have for
millennia (Figure 2-4). Sea birds have also reestablished seasonal rookeries on the rocks and
cliffs.
The east (windward) side of Long Cay is high, rocky, precipitous, and constantly blasted
by waves and sea spray thundering in off the Columbus Passage. There is no beach on the east
side. It is uniformly an assortment of exposed rock face and boulders that plunge from an
altitude as high as 50 meters directly to the sea, and from there off the shelf and into water a
thousand meters deep (Figure 2-5). In general, the west (leeward) side of the island is flatter,
although still somewhat elevated and hilly. It faces the calm, shallow Caicos Bank. In some
places the west side looks like the east side—exposed rock and boulders that tumble steeply
toward the sea. These areas break up the beaches and flat lands with soils so that suitable survey
targets where people might have been able to live were dispersed and unevenly distributed across
the western shore. The northern tip of Long Cay lies only 750 meters from the southern coast of
South Caicos. Dove Cay, which is discussed below, is situated between the two. Between Long
53
Cay and Dove Cay is a channel known as Big Cut, which is deep enough to permit passage of
large vessels and is the point of access through which all merchant traffic to the port of Cockburn
Harbour, South Caicos must travel.
We surveyed Long Cay on May 21, 2004. There were two objectives for this survey.
First, to rediscover a site that had been reported to the Turks and Caicos National Museum by
Bob Gascoine and Jane Minty in the late 1980s. The site’s GPS coordinates had been misplaced
in the intervening years—a search of the Museum’s records turned up a mention of a site on
Long Cay but revealed no specific location or details. The second objective was to evaluate the
rest of the island’s lengthy leeward coastline to determine if other sites or activity areas were
present. There are no beaches on the eastern coast, so we approached the island from the west.
We began at the southern end of the island, and disembarked at the southernmost beach where it
was possible to land the boat. Even then, it was a 20 minute hike to the southern extreme of the
island. All of the sites and activity areas described below are shown on the map of Long Cay
(Figure 2-6).
Survey results
LC-AA01. Given our difficulty in finding a suitable beach upon which to land, I was
surprised to discover two activity areas at the southern end of the island. Presumably, the ever-
shifting sands of the Caicos Bank had altered the coastline in the intervening centuries.
Whatever the cause, the first activity area we encountered lay approximately 400 meters south of
where we disembarked. I named it Long Cay-Activity Area 01. LC-AA01 is a mixed historic-
and prehistoric-era conch pile approximately 130 meters long. Modern conchs with the crescent-
shaped kill hole were in evidence. However, the majority of shells were punched. The conch
pile is divided by a limestone outcropping that juts into the water. Approximately 30 meters of
54
the conch pile lay north of the outcropping, which itself was about 20 meters wide; a further 100
meters of the pile lay south of the outcropping (Figure 2-7). The entire conch pile appears to be
submerged at high tide. A walkover surface survey of the area abutting the conch pile yielded no
artifacts or evidence of human activity. Moreover, the soils on the land around the conch pile
appeared identical to the surrounding beach sand, and were not stained the familiar grey color
associated with human occupation. Based on the evidence, I concluded that LC-AA01 was a
conch collection and/or processing station with no associated settlement. There were also a
number of smaller conch piles submerged just offshore the northern portion of the activity area
(Figure 2-8), but given our time constraints we did not venture out to sample each of these to
determine their antiquity.
LC-AA02. The second activity area we encountered lay approximately 400 meters south
of LC-AA01. It consists of a prehistoric conch pile that lay above the high-tide mark directly
above the shoreline. Several historic-era conch piles lay near LC-AA02 in the tidal zone. The
prehistoric conch pile is roughly 40 meters long and 2-4 meters wide. There is a disturbed area
adjacent to the conch pile. The area is about 20 meters square and is covered with a wispy,
grass-like vegetation that stands in contrast to the thicker, surrounding bush (Figure 2-9).
However, the soils were consistent between the activity area and the bush—always the light,
sandy loam we usually recognize as sterile. Even though a thorough surface reconnaissance
failed to yield a single artifact, I suspected a subsurface deposit and resolved to return with the
proper equipment to conduct shovel tests. Unfortunately, we never made it back. Subsequent
discoveries trumped our plans to return, and I was unwilling to stop excavating large, proven
sites just to test a comparatively small and probably less significant area. Although LC-AA02
may turn out to be a habitation site, for now it remains a conch-processing activity area.
55
LC-AA03 and LC-AA04. After reaching the southern end of the islands, we turned
around and ventured north. Approximately 1.3 km north of LC-AA01 we encountered another
small prehistoric conch pile on the beach above the high-water line. LC-AA03 is about 5 meters
by 3 meters in area. A further 1 km to the north, we encountered a similar feature (LC-AA04),
also on the beach above the water line, and roughly the same size. Neither of these activity areas
were associated with any cultural material. These are simple conch kill areas.
The Spud site—LC-05. I first saw Spud from the sea. As we neared the north end of
the island, our progress was blocked by a steep, rocky abutment that ran across the entire width
of the island and out into chest-deep water. I called the boat to take us around the obstacle.
While we were on the boat we opted for lunch and a break. As the others finished eating, I
scanned the coastline with binoculars for more coastal conch piles. When I panned to Spud, it
stood out against the surrounding landscape so clearly that I knew I had found Bob Gascoine’s
site, even at a range of a thousand meters. “Spud” is so named because of its appearance from
that distance. The soil is more exposed and the ground cover vegetation is lightly colored,
except for a large clump of yellowish shrubs growing in the center of the site. With the contrast
provided by the surrounding darker-colored bush, I observed “It looks like a giant baked potato,
with butter on top.” People chuckled, and the name stuck.
We landed after lunch and surveyed the shoreline between the rocky obstacle and Spud,
finding nothing of interest. When we reached the site, it was immediately apparent that Spud
was a large-scale occupation site (Figure 2-10). The soil was stained grey throughout, and
almost black in places. Ceramics, crushed shell, shell tools, and coral abraders littered the
surface (Figure 2-11). Some of this material was eroding out of the deposit and down a steep, 2
to 3 meter slope to the “beach” below, which is really only a narrow strip of tidally-submerged
56
sand. As such, there were shell tools and other cultural material strewn about at the waterline. I
initially estimated the site’s size at 70 x 30 meters—it turned out to be larger. We returned to
excavate Spud the next week. A complete and detailed description of the site accompanies the
excavation results in Chapter 5.
North of Spud, there is virtually no coastline. The island becomes an escarpment with
cliffs on either side dropping rapidly into the sea. We walked as far as we could, and found no
further evidence of human occupation. We boarded the boat, and trolled along the remaining
coastline so I could scan what remained of the island with the binoculars for any features. I
observed none, and we set off for our next target.
The role of Long Cay
The presence of a site the size of Spud indicates that Long Cay played an important role
in the prehistoric settlement pattern. Indigenous settlers recognized that Long Cay is
strategically placed near a variety of marine environments, and they took advantage of it. To the
west lay the flat, calm Caicos Bank and its mollusk resources. Given the number of conch
processing activity areas we discovered, these were clearly (and predictably) a vital part of the
local economy. Moreover, to the north, south, and east lay the reefs and open ocean habitats
favored by fish, lobster, and other marine resources. A more detailed analysis of the role of
Long Cay and the Spud site is presented in Chapter 5.
The Survey of Moxie Bush
A titular island, Moxie Bush is a 150 x 75 meter clump of mangroves with a forested,
sandy interior that somehow stays dry at high tide (Figure 2-12). It covers an area of
approximately 1.13 hectares (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b), and lies
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about 750 meters west of the similarly mangrove-choked western coast of South Caicos (Figure
2-13). We surveyed Moxie Bush on May 21, 2004, immediately after the survey of Long Cay.
Moxie Bush is an interesting place. Nowhere else in the area can one gain such an
appreciation for the degree to which the northeastern portion of the Caicos Bank is filling in. We
arrived at absolute low tide. Even so, I was amazed to see that exposed sand stretched beyond
the horizon (Figure 2-14). I am exactly six feet tall (1.8m), which means that my eyes are about
1.7m above the ground. Given the curvature of the earth, this places an object on the horizon 4.7
km distant from my location (www.reference.com). Since the exposed sand went beyond that
distance, I can only speculate how far the dry bank truly extends. As it is, 4.7 km is halfway
from Moxie Bush to East Caicos. For the first time I truly appreciated the vagrant nature of the
sands of the Caicos Banks.
Moxie Bush is also oddly beautiful. Once one hacks to its interior through the ring of
dense mangroves, the island opens up. At its interior, it harbors large trees approaching 10
meters in height as well as a variety of other lush terrestrial vegetation. The island also supports
numerous small lizards and an assortment of waterfowl. There is abundant shade and no sound
but for the gentle calls of roosting birds. However, I highly doubt that it ever supported a human
population. First, no signs whatsoever of prehistoric occupation were present. Second, even
though the interior of Moxie Bush now remains dry most of the time, it is obvious that storm
surges or extreme high tides regularly inundate the cay. This became increasingly apparent as
we continued to encounter plastic bottles and fish net floats—even an old cooler—suspended in
the canopy. Since flotsam was routinely perched as high as eye-level it is impossible to imagine
that people would ever choose to live in such an environment.
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The role of Moxie Bush
It is unclear if Moxie Bush was even present a thousand years ago. Yet it is quite
possible that the island’s origin is tied to prehistoric activity. While motoring around the Caicos
Bank, I observed a number of historic-era conch piles dotting the waters in the vicinity of South
Caicos. Some of these had been colonized by mangroves, which use the piles for anchorage.
Over time, it is reasonable to imagine these mangroves increasing in size and breadth. As they
grow, more and more sand and shell material would become trapped in the increasingly dense
array of mangrove roots, eventually creating a new island. Although we looked for (and did not
find) a single conch in and around Moxie Bush, it is possible that we are seeing the result of a
prehistoric conch pile, colonized by mangroves, sedimented by shifting sands, and fast-
forwarded half a millennium.
Whatever the island’s origin and life history, there is no percentage in wagering that
prehistoric people ever lived there. If Moxie Bush were around in prehistory, it may have been
visited occasionally by foragers seeking out the occasional bird egg or small reptile, or to pull a
bonefish from among the roots of its mangroves. However even this seems unlikely, given the
contrast between Moxie Bush’s limited biomass and the whopping productivity of the bank and
reef environments that are present no more than a few minutes’ canoe ride away. Consequently,
I argue that Moxie Bush played no significant role in the settlement pattern of indigenous
peoples.
The Survey Of Dove Cay
Dove Cay is a small island situated about 250 meters off the southernmost extreme of
South Caicos. To the north and east of Dove Cay lie relatively shallow, conch-rich grass beds
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and the southern shore of South Caicos. To the south and west of Dove Cay lies Big Cut, the
shipping channel that sustains the modern economy of South Caicos. The northeastern extremity
of Long Cay lay on the other side of that channel (Figure 2-15). Unlike Moxie Bush, there is no
question as to the origin and antiquity of Dove Cay. It is part of the ancient geology around
which the main islands of the Caicos Bank formed eons ago. Its bedrock and much of its
elevated bulk consists of limestone—the remains of a Jurassic-period reef that once sealed the
Caicos Bank from the Columbus Passage.
The long axis of the cay is oriented east-west. The island measures a total of 160 meters
by 80 meters for a total area of 1.3 hectares (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics
2008b). However, very little of that area is suitable for human transit, let alone occupation. Like
Long Cay, the island’s windward side faces the pounding waters of the Columbus Passage. The
leeward side is more sheltered, but given the island’s precarious perch in the middle of the
channel, it is still not easy to approach. There is a patch of relatively flat land in the center of the
island, but it measures no more than 40 x 25 meters in area. From this relatively flat region the
sides of the island slope precipitously into the sea in all directions. There is a very small beach
on the island’s leeward shore, but rocks and reefs preclude any attempt to park the bow of a boat
there.
We surveyed Dove Cay on May 22, 2004. Given the island’s small size, overall
rockiness, and considerable slope, our expectations were not very high. However, we
encountered a prehistoric conch pile right near the waterline as we came ashore. A sandy
hillside on the northeastern side of the island sloped steeply from the water’s edge to the island’s
comparatively flat, 40 by 25 meter interior. This hillside was darker grey in color, and littered
with fire-cracked rock, fragmentary Strombus gigas shells, and the occasional expedient shell
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tool. These cultural items were eroding out of the northwestern side of the island into the sea,
and littered the tidal zone at the base of the hill as well. Dove Cay had been inhabited after all.
We embarked on an extensive survey of the flat area in the center of the island and of the
peripheral hillsides, rock ledges, and beaches. No other evidence was discovered in these areas.
The interior flat area was covered with a dense growth of salt-resistant grasses and a few clumps
of stunted shrubbery. In contrast to the darker soil of the eroding hillside, soils in the flat area
were a uniform light color associated with sterile beach sand. Moreover, no cultural items were
in evidence on the surface. The site had evidently been covered by wind-blown sand, so that the
only obvious signs of occupation were present in places where the deposit was exposed by
erosion.
The role of Dove Cay
My initial impression was that the Dove Cay site was nothing extraordinary. We were
preparing to leave when Winn Phillips came running toward me cradling some object in his
hands. It turned out to be the most spectacular single artifact that we recovered during the entire
field school. In the eroding deposit, Winn had discovered an intact half of an imported
ceremonial bowl. The vessel was decorated with an enigmatic incised-line motif that combined
decorative and technological elements of both the Chican and Meillacan subseries. Moreover,
two anthropomorphic forms, lying side by side, were applied to the vessel’s single intact handle.
While my excitement was tempered by Winn’s haste in removing the item without first
consulting anyone about provenience, clearly it was an important discovery, so I had him show
me the precise location where he had first encountered it. The “twin pot,” as it came to be
known, immediately reframed my initial feelings about the island’s potential usage. This unique
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artifact seemed akin to items recovered from Pelican Cay, and I immediately resolved to conduct
excavations at Dove Cay as a result.
The Survey Of Iguana Cay
Here it is helpful to view the island of South Caicos as the locals do—as a giant soup
ladle. The “handle” extends approximately 6 km on a north-south axis, while the “cup” juts 5.25
km westward at the southern end. Bell Sound is the portion of the Caicos Bank that lies in
between; it inundates the area west of the “handle” and north of the “cup.” About halfway up the
“handle” lay Iguana Cay, a tiny, 70 x 60 meter islet situated in Bell Sound approximately 100
meters off the western shore (Figure 2-18). The west side of the island is a rocky dome that rises
approximately 10 meters out of the surrounding banks. The east end of the island is marshy and
impassably choked with mangroves (Figure 2-19).
Iguana Cay was surveyed on May 25, 2004. The water around Iguana Cay is shallow, so
we waded to the island from the nearby shore of South Caicos. As its name implies, Iguana Cay
is replete with rock iguanas. They lay basking on the rocks by the dozens and seemed to occupy
every nook and cranny of the island. Apparently they are not accustomed to seeing many people,
for they showed not fear but curiosity, and frequently walked right up to us. They survive quite
nicely on the island’s abundant cacti, which is one of their preferred staples.
Aside from the gregarious iguanas, we found little else. There was no evidence of human
activity, save for a semi-circular arrangement of piled stones situated in the shallow water
adjacent to the rocks on the southernmost tip of the island (Figure 2-20). This feature was
intentionally constructed, perhaps as a pen or cage in which to temporarily store live conch or
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fish. It is impossible to determine the antiquity of the feature—it could be a thousand years old,
or less than ten. Consequently, I note it as a possible “conch crawl” of unknown origin.
The role of Iguana Cay
The evidence suggests that Iguana Cay played no major role in the prehistoric settlement
pattern of the region. However, the presence of the conch crawl in context with a thriving iguana
population on the cay may be significant to this study of regional usage of small uninhabited
cays. Perhaps Iguana Cay served as a sort of prehistoric “refrigerator” that helped ensure food
security in difficult times. Consider this scenario: a tropical disturbance hits the region with
heavy rains and high winds that make it too dangerous to venture out to open water for fish and
conch. These conditions frequently last for several days. Under these circumstances, prehistoric
peoples would run out of protein as fish and conch were consumed or gradually spoiled in the
tropical conditions. If bad weather persisted, these could not be easily replaced. Enter Iguana
Cay. People could easily get to the island in even the worst weather. They could harvest a few
robust iguanas to get them through the tempest. Perhaps they also planned ahead when they saw
that the weather was deteriorating and threw some conch in the conch crawl—these animals
would further supplement the diet and get them through the storm.
Admittedly, there is no way to evaluate this hypothesis given the limited archaeological
evidence. But as we Floridians know, hurricane preparedness is a part of life in the tropics. Is it
unreasonable to think that indigenous West Indians would have been any less diligent in
assembling a survival kit when bad weather approached? I suggest that we at least consider the
role of islands like Iguana Cay in this context. Iguana Cay may not have mattered much in
indigenous people’s daily life, but like that box of canned goods we keep in the closet, it may
have become really important on particularly bad days between June 1st and November 30th.
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Additional reconnaissance of islands like Iguana Cay will be necessary to test the validity of this
hypothesis.
The Survey Of Horse Cay
Horse Cay lay in Bell Sound almost exactly 500 meters north of the northern tip of the
“ladle” of South Caicos (Figure 2-21). The cay is shaped like a rough oval, with its long axis
situated within a few degrees of a precise north-south alignment. The cay measures 240 meters
on this long axis, and is between 30 and 70 meters wide, for a total land area of 1.29 hectares
(Department of Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). Exposed limestone rising several
meters above sea level lay at its interior, which means the cay can trace its geological heritage to
the same platform as South Caicos, Dove Cay, and Long Cay, and is not a recent development
like Moxie Bush. Moreover, the interior of the island is dominated by the same scrubby
vegetation and cactus as the ancient islands. It has some smallish mangrove stands at its north
point, and is flanked on its northwestern (lee) shore by a nice sandy beach that is 100 meters long
and as much as 10 meters wide.
We surveyed Horse Cay on May 25, 2004, immediately after wrapping up our visit to
Iguana Cay. Horse Cay is inaccessible via boat from Cockburn Town due to the silting in of
portions of Bell Sound west of the island and north of South Caicos. Therefore, we drove to the
nearest land approach, where we could see the island clearly from the South Caicos shore.
However, no one could know how deep the intervening waters were, or how far away the island
might actually lay on the horizon (I did not remember to bring the map). Given that we could
not tell if we would have had to swim part of the way, we left all of our belongings in the truck
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and only took water bottles on the adventure. Consequently, there are no photos of the site we
would find on Horse Cay.
We waded across the half-kilometer gap in about 25 minutes. Upon arrival we walked
north along the western beach. The eastern shore had no beach, only exposed rock that was
lapped by the incoming tide. In short order we discovered evidence of prehistoric occupation.
An easily discernible surface scatter of cultural material, including fire-cracked rock,
fragmentary burnt conch, and several sherds of imported ceramics was lying in the open on the
northern half of the lee beach directly adjacent to the water. This scatter extended some 40
meters along the shore. On the beach we only found a few very small sherds that were
exclusively undecorated. Erosion had taken its toll on these artifacts and they were, in general,
quite friable and so heavily abraded that no diagnostic decoration remained. Only the temper
told us that they were the remains of imported vessels.
After examining the beach scatter, we turned our attention to the adjacent interior. The
first feature we encountered was the relict foundation of a refuse midden situated above tidal
maximum directly between the beach and the interior. At first it looked like ordinary beach rock.
But upon closer examination, we found cultural material like conch tools and ceramic sherds
literally “fossilized” in the fabric of the stone. Since Middleton Cay also features an extensive
“fossil midden,” it is important to understand how these unique features are formed.
Fossil middens are caused by the unique chemical nature of anthropomorphic waste
(Fernandez et al. 2002; Wells et al. 2000). As people pile organic material like plant matter,
animal remains, and their own waste into a midden, carbon and other elements become
concentrated in the feature’s matrix. Microorganisms feeding on the decaying material will
release some of this carbon in the form of carbon dioxide. Rainwater then percolates through the
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deposit, dissolving some carbon dioxide to create a weak carbonic acid. This acidic water will
seep down and pool on the underlying limestone bedrock. Over time, the acidic water will
dissolve some of the limestone, so that the base of the midden becomes a slurry of midden matrix
and carbonate-saturated acidic rainwater. Eventually some of this dissolved carbonate will
precipitate out to form a solid mass, in the same way as stalactites and other cave features are
formed. This reforms the solid carbonate around whatever material happens to be at the base of
the midden and traps it in the fabric of the reconstituted bedrock. If the overlying midden is
eroded away—in this case, by wave action and the occasional hurricane—then all that will
remain of the feature is exposed bedrock peppered with durable cultural materials like ceramic
sherds and marine shells. While it is plainly impossible to excavate such a feature, one can still
gain insight as to the timing and intensity of the associated occupation by considering both the
dimensions of the fossil midden and the particulars of the cultural material entombed therein.
Horse Cay’s fossil midden was approximately 8 meters long by two to three wide. Most
of the cultural material trapped in the rock consisted of broken conch and expedient conch tools,
with less than a dozen undecorated imported sherds in evidence. The site’s occupation area lay
directly behind this feature. The soil structure of the site was the familiar dark grey and stood in
stark contrast to the light, sandy loam present on the rest of the island. Across the site we
regularly encountered surface scatter of fire-cracked rock and burnt, cracked conch. We
recorded 15 plain imported sherds and a single imported decorated sherd. It is a small rim
fragment with the distinctive wet-clay, cross-hatch design of the Meillacan subseries. We also
recorded three broken expedient shell tools and a single intact, small conch pick. All of the
cultural material was confined to an area of about 60 by 20 meters, including the surface scatter
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on the beach. A thorough reconnaissance of the rest of the island yielded a few round-hole
conch but nothing else. No other middens were detected in a search that lasted nearly an hour.
My excitement with finding yet another Meillacan era small-cay site was tempered by a
growing anxiety over the rising tide. None of us wanted to swim the half-kilometer back to
South Caicos, and we were not equipped to spend the night. We left, and waded/swam through
deepening, roughening water in about 40 minutes. Unfortunately, we would not return to Horse
Cay. As mentioned above, the water west of the island is too shallow and hazardous to navigate
by boat from Cockburn Harbor, South Caicos, and it would have been madness to try to wade to
the island with all of our gear and supplies. As such, any interpretation of the role of Horse Cay
must be based on our observations from the survey.
The role of Horse Cay
Even with the limited archaeological evidence, it is possible to make a meaningful
interpretation of the Horse Cay site. First, it appears to have been occupied earlier in prehistory.
The Meillacan ceramics and the lack of any Palmetto ware strongly suggests that the site was
abandoned sometime prior to the widespread distribution of locally-manufactured ceramics in
the region. Granted, the sample size of sherds is quite small (n=16), but if the site were occupied
during the Palmetto period (AD 1200-1500), then one would expect to find some Palmetto ware
in evidence.
A deeper consideration of Horse Cay’s attributes reveals much about the site even though
the material assemblage is largely mute. Three lines of evidence and reasoning lead me to
believe that the site was more intensively occupied than the paltry assemblage indicates. First is
the size of the site itself. At 60 by 20 meters, the Horse Cay site is spatially larger than many
other small cay sites we examined (e.g. Gibbs Cay and the two Cotton Cay sites discussed in
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Chapter 4). Second is the fossil midden. At 8 by 3 meters, it is quite large when compared to the
middens I excavated at contemporaneous sites like Kendrick and Plantation on Middle Caicos
(see Sinelli 2001). Moreover, the processes that form these fossil middens take time. Since trace
amounts of carbonic acid in rainwater simply cannot dissolve limestone overnight, people would
have had to regularly pile up debris for quite a few years to achieve the degree of preservation
that we observed. Unfortunately not enough is known about this process to establish with
certainty the duration of the associated occupation. The third reason I believe that Horse Cay
was more intensively occupied than the evidence suggests is the low profile of the island itself.
No point of Horse Cay lies more than a few meters above high tide. Consequently, the island
must be inundated on a fairly regular basis, which makes it likely that the archaeological deposit
of Horse Cay has mostly washed away and now lay scattered across Bell Sound. Recall Moxie
Bush, which is less than 5 km southwest of Horse Cay in the same body of water. The tidal
surges that placed the water-borne debris at eye-level in the Moxie Bush canopy would have
nearly or completely submerged the entire mass of Horse Cay. The relict midden further
demonstrates the effects of erosion—whatever was on top of that feature has long since
vanished. Moreover, we did not encounter a single iguana or other terrestrial creature on the
island, even though we expected to given Horse Cay’s isolation and our experience at Iguana
Cay. Reptiles, if they ever did colonize the island, would be extremely vulnerable to these tidal
surges, particularly since Horse Cay lacks the elevation of Iguana Cay and the taller trees found
on Moxie Bush that would provide refuge from high water.
When viewed in its totality, the available evidence suggests that Horse Cay played a
more substantial role in the prehistoric settlement pattern than can be appreciated through the
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available archaeological evidence. I more fully elaborate on the possible role of Horse Cay and
its possible relationship to other sites in the area in Chapter 5.
The Survey Of Six Hills Cays
The Six Hills Cays are the most remote of the small cays we surveyed. They are situated
10 km southeast of South Caicos and are so named for the profile they cut on the horizon when
viewed from that island. The cays appear to have six “hills,” which upon closer inspection are
rounded limestone outcrops elevated over the surrounding terrain.
Geologically, Six Hills Cays are the limestone remnants of an ancient reef that has since
been beaten down by the persistent wind and hammering waves. Six Hills Cays consist of two
long, narrow islands stretching a combined 2 km from west to east, along a west-southwest to
east-northeast bearing. Together the islands measure 9.14 hectares in area (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). The western island is approximately 900 meters long;
the eastern, about 700 meters. These main islands undulate in width from as much as 75 meters
to as few as 15, so that when viewed from above they look like a python that has eaten a series of
hamsters (Figure 2-22). A small, rocky remnant of the original formation, no larger than 20
meters square, lies in the 200-m-wide gap between the two main land masses, and stands as
silent testimony to an era in which the two main islands were linked. The waters surrounding the
Six Hills Cays are deeper than those around any other cay that we surveyed on the Caicos Bank,
averaging 8-12 meters. Perhaps this partially accounts for the fact that no beaches more than a
few meters wide are to be found anywhere along the islands’ perimeters.
We surveyed Six Hills Cays on May 28, 2004. The islands were among the most difficult
to survey. First, there is no good approach to either of the big islands. After circumnavigating
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both of the big islands, our driver managed to reconnoiter a “beach” on the northwestern side of
the western island that had fewer dangerous rocks than any other spot. We disembarked into
waist-deep water, and once we hit the shore we had to pull ourselves up a sheer, chest-high rock
ledge and scramble up the side of a steep, rocky hill to get our bearings.
Most of the time our transit around the western island was restricted to near the shore by
immense expanses of dense cacti (Figure 2-23). These plants seem to be the only vegetation that
thrives in Six Hills Cays, which we found to be primarily exposed limestone with very little
surface soil to retain the moisture that other plants require. Colluding with the cacti to hinder our
progress were steep slopes, impassible chasms, and sharp, shifting rocks that routinely threatened
to toss us either into a cactus stand or off a cliff into the sea (Figures 2-24 and 2-25). In short
order we realized that this was not the kind of environment that indigenous peoples would have
likely chosen to call home.
At times, the local wildlife was as unwelcoming as the terrain. Six Hills Cays are part of
the Admiral Cockburn Nature Preserve and are designated as a refuge for resident and migratory
sea birds. We encountered quite a variety of birds, including brown pelicans, several species of
gull, sooty terns, and even a nesting osprey. Most avoided us, but the sooty terns were tending
eggs and seemed unnerved by our sudden and unexpected appearance and dove at us on
occasion. But by far, the osprey was the least hospitable Six Hills resident (Figure 2-26). She
reared up from her nest, spread her wings wide and screeched when we stumbled over a rise to
within 10 meters of her nest and surprised her. Interestingly we did not encounter any iguanas,
even though the topography is a great deal like that of Iguana Cay, albeit much larger, and there
was enough cactus on the island to support legions of these reptilian vegetarians. The only
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terrestrial vertebrates we saw were small lizards, and even these were fairly rare. It seems that
Six Hills Cays are literally and figuratively “for the birds.”
We surveyed as much of the western island as we could and found nothing of interest,
save a historic-era conch pile at the western extreme of the island (Figure 2-27). No prehistoric
conchs were detected in the pile, so we departed for the eastern island. Conditions there were
identical to those we encountered on the western island. Nevertheless, we surveyed as much of
the eastern island as we could, and discovered nothing. We did not attempt to land at the small
central island because it is little more than a big, steeply-sided rock that would require rappelling
gear to survey.
The role of Six Hills Cays
Six Hills Cays have virtually none of the attributes that attracted indigenous settlements.
There are no good beaches for landing and securing canoes, there are no soils to speak of, and
finding a flat piece of land upon which to erect a house would be a challenge. Yet the seas
around Six Hills Cays are filled with rocks and reefs that harbor abundant marine life. Today the
waters around Six Hills Cays are regular stops for tourists and sport anglers seeking grouper and
snapper, as well as the bigger pelagic predators who come in to feed on the reefs (Turks &
Caicos Tourist Board 2007). In prehistory, these reefs probably attracted the attention of
indigenous fishermen as well, and it follows that they may have occasionally set foot on the
islands to rest, eat, or seek shelter from a sudden squall. Beyond that, there is no evidence that
these islands played any significant role in the prehistoric settlement pattern.
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The Survey Of Plandon Cay
Plandon Cay is the barrier island that lay immediately north of the northern tip of the
“handle” of South Caicos. Compared to the small cays discussed thus far, Plandon is a large
island, encompassing 21.63 hectares (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b).
The island is approximately 1.1 km in length from north to south but is fairly narrow. Plandon is
widest (about 250 m) at the southernmost part of the island, but it tapers as one moves northward
so that the northern half is rarely more than 150 m wide. It is separated from the northern tip of
South Caicos by a cut that is 250 m wide and 10 m deep at its maximum. Currents in the cut can
be strong; a good portion of the waters of the northeastern portion of the Caicos bank flow
though this channel with each tide.
Plandon is different than any of the other cays we surveyed in that its good, wide beach is
on the windward (east) and southern side of the island. Extensive dunes, some of which are 5-8
meters high, lie just behind the windward beach. Immediately behind the dunes, the landscape
turns to salina, which is submerged at high tide and exposed at low tide. There are some
mangrove stands in the salina, which are densest on the southwestern side and become smaller
and more scattered as the island tapers northward. Otherwise, the vegetation consists of little
more than sea oats, a few cactus, and the occasional clump of stunted shrubs dispersed among
the dunes. The northern fifth of the island is nothing more than a 50 to 70-meter-wide spit of
land with beach on the east, sea oat covered dunes in the middle, and the expansive, featureless
flats of the Caicos Bank on the west.
Geologically, Plandon is part of the ancient reef that forms the limestone spine of South
Caicos and Dove and Long Cays to the south and Middle Creek Cay to the north. Yet for some
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reason Plandon lacks the high escarpments of its neighbors. Limestone is intermittently visible
at the base of the dunes all along Plandon’s length, yet the dunes themselves are the most
elevated parts of the island. This is quite a contrast to the 50-meter-high limestone “mountains”
of the surrounding cays, and certainly has made Plandon far more vulnerable to storm surges
throughout its history.
We surveyed Plandon on June 2, 2004. We had tried to survey Plandon and the
surrounding cays two days earlier, via boat. Like Horse Cay, an eastern approach to Plandon
through the Caicos Bank is blocked by shallow water and other hazards, so the only way to get
there is to approach from the east (windward) through the open waters of the Columbus Passage.
Things went well until about 30 minutes into the trip, when the boat’s fuel filter clogged and
engine began to sputter. We limped back and spent the remainder of the day excavating Spud.
We were scheduled to leave South Caicos three days later, but a new fuel filter would not
be in for a week. I very much wanted to see the site on Plandon Cay that Brian Riggs had
discovered some years earlier, so I devised an alternative plan. The survey team and I would
drive to the north end of South Caicos and float across the channel to Plandon Cay. From there
we could survey Plandon, then float across the next channel to survey Middle Creek Cay to
Plandon’s north. Had I known then that the locals avoid these channels “due to rough sea
conditions and the prevalence of sharks” (Tupper and Rudd 2002:485), I might have
reconsidered. But fortunately for us, the swim was largely uneventful.
Brian Riggs had given me GPS coordinates for the site and we found it quickly. It is
located on the southern shore of the island where Plandon is widest and the windward beach
wraps around to the south. The site lay immediately adjacent to the beach in a flat area that lay
no more than a meter above the high water mark. Its most obvious features are several
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prehistoric conch piles, none of which exceeded 8 x 3 x .5 meters in dimension, arrayed at the
top of the beach between the water line and permanently dry land. Beyond that, it was difficult
to determine the site’s size or layout. There were no distinct soil anomalies, and there was no
surface scatter of cultural material or ceramics that would offer a clue as to the timing of the
occupation. Given the sparse evidence, I can imagine two scenarios to describe the occupation
of Plandon Cay. First, the site was little more than a conch processing activity area, akin to those
we discovered on Long Cay. Alternatively, the site was more intensively occupied, but the
deposit has been buried by sand and/or eroded away by overwash. It is impossible to determine
which of these scenarios is valid without further subsurface testing, but given the site’s low
profile and Plandon’s overall vulnerability to tidal forces, it is difficult to imagine that whatever
deposit there was had not been substantially impacted by ocean surges and erosion.
Unfortunately it was our last day on South Caicos and we could not return to test these
hypotheses.
After we examined the site, the team turned our attention to surveying the remainder of
the island. Since the southwest side is mangroves and salina, we focused our efforts on the
windward shore where the beach made transit easier. We walked along the beach and took turns
in pairs exploring the interior of the island in and behind the dunes at 100 meter intervals. No
evidence of prehistoric occupation was observed. We did find, however, all manner of
interesting historical artifacts washed up along the otherwise gorgeous beach, including an old
navigational buoy, a Russian vodka bottle with Cyrillic lettering, a variety of fish net floats,
hundreds of lengths of broken polyester rope, and at least half a million plastic containers of all
descriptions. At the northern tip of Plandon Cay we encountered two clapboard shacks (Figure
2-28). No one was home, and there were no items in the shacks to help identify who built them
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or why. At the time I thought that they may have been erected by local fishermen as a place to
rest during the heat of the day. Brian Riggs (personal communication 2004) later clarified that
there had been a recent surge in illegal immigration from Haiti as people fled to the Turks &
Caicos to escape the desperate conditions there. It was sobering to consider how bad things must
be in the western hemisphere’s poorest nation if a shack on Plandon Cay was considered an
improvement.
The role of Plandon Cay
The site at the southern end of the island is clear evidence that Plandon Cay somehow
figured into the prehistoric settlement pattern of the region. However, given the near-total lack
of surface features and the fact that we were unable to conduct any subsurface testing at the site,
it is impossible to know the extent to which Plandon Cay was occupied by the indigenous
peoples, who lived there, or even when the Plandon Cay site was active. We were able to
establish that no other sites were evident on the island, although it is conceivable that other sites
were destroyed by erosion or buried under the dunes. In any event, it is not possible to know
how, when, or by whom Plandon Cay was utilized in prehistory. Thus it seems prudent to
exclude Plandon Cay from this analysis of indigenous settlement strategies.
The Survey Of Middle Creek Cay
Middle Creek Cay lay 350 m north of Plandon Cay. The cut between the two islands is
larger, deeper, and has a stronger current than the channel between Plandon and South Caicos
(Figure 2-29). Almost exactly in the middle of the cut is an angular limestone monolith that juts
out of the water to a height of some 20 meters. It bisects the cut into two separate channels, and
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the narrow beach at its leeward base offered a welcome rest stop during our rafting adventure
from Plandon to Middle Creek Cay.
Middle Creek Cay extends approximately 1.5 km along its north-south axis and ranges in
width from 150 meters in the south to almost 500 meters in the north. With an area of 46.47
hectares, it was the largest “small” island we examined on the Caicos Bank (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). The limestone ridge, so noticeably absent on Plandon
Cay, returns with a vengeance on Middle Creek and runs the entire length of the island from
north to south, exceeding 40 meters in elevation in places. The cliffs fall directly into the sea on
the southern half of the windward (east) side of the island, which makes it impossible to walk
along the eastern shore from a southern approach. However, the cliffs retreat inland along the
northern half so that a wide sandy beach lay between the cliffs and the Columbus Passage.
Lamentably, there is no way to reach the beach from the island’s interior—the cliffs are too
precipitous to safely climb down. The leeward (west) side of Middle Creek Cay is heavily
fortified with mangroves that delineate the border between Middle Creek’s leeward coast and the
vast expanse of the tidally-submerged banks. A narrow, dry salina runs between the mangroves
and the island’s elevated interior, allowing easy passage along the flat, stable ground. As one
moves north along the leeward salina, the mangroves become even more dense and the entire
northwestern shore becomes a giant mangrove swamp. It is impassable—there is no way
through it and transit around is blocked by swampy salina mud on the west and nearly vertical
limestone cliffs on the east. Essentially, Middle Creek Cay is a dead end for those on foot—
there is no way to make it around the natural obstacles to the north side of the island.
The vegetation on Middle Creek Cay is more lush and diverse than that of the other
islands in the area. For example, we encountered a large palm forest with trees 8 meters high on
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the western side of the escarpment in the piedmont between the salina and the cliffs. Nearby, we
ate lunch under the shade of a large mahogany tree. There are also lignum vitae and gumbo
limbo trees. Overall, the vegetation of Middle Creek Cay resembles more closely the ecologies
of the wetter Caicos islands to its north and west than the drier, salt-producing islands to its south
and east. Moreover, iguanas and lizards were widespread, as were shore birds and other
waterfowl roosting in the mangroves and among the rocks on the cliffs.
We arrived at Middle Creek Cay after a 45 minute swim from Plandon that included a
break at the monolith in the center of the channel. As described above, all land passage from the
island’s southern tip to its eastern shore is blocked by the cliffs that fall directly into the sea. So,
we began the survey along the leeward (west) coast. We walked along the flat salina between
the piedmont and the mangroves, once again ducking into the interior in pairs at 100 meter
intervals. No evidence of prehistoric occupation was discovered, although we did manage to
spook more than a few iguanas. After about 900 meters, our passage was blocked by the
impenetrable mangrove swamp. We tried to get around it for at least half an hour but only
encountered more mud and more mangroves. Eventually we gave up and retreated southward to
determine if a passage could be made over the escarpment and down to the eastern shore.
There were several places along the piedmont where the cliffs were broken up by steep,
yet climbable hills. We found a broad pass that allowed fairly easy passage to the top of the
escarpment. The view from the top of Middle Creek Cay is one of the most stunning vistas I
have ever experienced in the Turks & Caicos Islands (Figures 2-30 and 2-31). Unfortunately, the
cliffs to our east were so steep that we could find no place to safely attempt a descent to the
beach below. In the distance to our west we noticed a small patch of green island on the bright
white sands of the exposed banks. In what was arguably my biggest lapse of judgment of the
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entire project, I decided we should walk out to it. We enjoyed the scenery for a few more
minutes, then scampered down the hill through the piedmont, past the mangroves, and out into
the flats for what would become a Bataan-like march to Riley Rock.
The role of Middle Creek Cay
Our surveys yielded no evidence of prehistoric usage of Middle Creek Cay. In fact, we
encountered no evidence for any human activity—not even a single killed conch shell. This is
probably due to the physical nature of the island’s shoreline. The entire northern side of the
island is a muddy, mangrove-choked swamp. People certainly did not live there. Neither were
they likely to have lived on the beaches along the northeastern (windward) side. Regional
settlement theory holds that the windward coasts of islands in the region were never favored for
intensive settlement by indigenous peoples, presumably because they are too exposed to the
elements and the surrounding waters are too rough. Although the beach on the northeast side of
Middle Creek is beautiful and inviting, it is certainly prone to flooding during high tides and
storms, much like the windward beaches that abut the eastern side of the escarpment of South
Caicos. Granted, we could not survey this area of Middle Creek Cay, but given the lack of any
other sites known to exist in similar contexts in the Turks & Caicos, it is unlikely that any await
discovery in this area. Finally, the western (leeward) side of Middle Creek Cay is equally
uninviting. Almost all of the leeward shoreline is either a mangrove swamp or abuts the tidally
dry sands of the Caicos Bank. Neither situation is conducive to canoe traffic. In fact, the only
navigable water anywhere on Middle Creek lay directly to the south of the island in the channel
between it and Plandon. If anyone were to establish a site on the island, their only choice would
be at the southern tip adjacent to the channel, and no evidence for prehistoric occupation was
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discovered there in spite of our intensive survey. Indigenous people, it seems, did not choose to
live on Middle Creek Cay.
Even so, I argue that Middle Creek Cay could have been an important resource to the
region’s earliest inhabitants. As discussed above, Middle Creek appears to be the southern-most
island upon which certain kinds of moisture-dependent vegetation are found. The palm forest
would have provided timbers for structures and thatching for roofs. The mahogany and lignum
vitae would have been valuable for structural members and to construct wooden implements like
barbacoa racks, cooking utensils, canoe paddles, and perhaps even ritual artifacts. Finally, the
vast mangrove swamps could have provided enough firewood and charcoal to last a lifetime. In
summary, while it is easy to understand why people would have chosen not to live at Middle
Creek Cay, it is difficult to imagine them ignoring the valuable resources the island had to offer.
The Survey Of Riley Rock
Riley Rock is a 50 by 40 meter limestone outcropping that pops out of the barren plain of
the northeastern Caicos Bank like an emerald on a starched white sheet. It is approximately 0.2
hectares in area and is dome-shaped, with a maximum elevation about 6 meters above the high
tide mark. The island lay 1.8 km from Middle Creek Cay, and only 1.1 km from the southern
coast of East Caicos. About half of the distance between Riley Rock and Middle Creek Cay is
exposed at low tide, but the mucky, wildly crenulated sands make walking difficult (Figure 2-
32). For the remainder of the distance, the bank is submerged by water that averaged about 30
cm deep. This compounded the difficulty given the soupy, undulating nature of the bottom. It
took us an hour and a half to reach the place.
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From an archaeological standpoint, Riley Rock is insignificant. There was no evidence
that anyone other than us had ever attempted to visit there. The island is much smaller than it
appears from a distance, has no discernible soils, and only scrubby, low, salt-tolerant vegetation.
Yet somehow a considerable population of rock iguanas manages to survive on the island. We
counted more than twenty of the creatures, many more than a meter in length, suggesting that
parts of Riley Rock remain dry during even the highest tidal surges. This fact was actually
helpful in the final analysis, in that it provides some context as to the range of tidal flooding and
storm surges in this area of the Caicos Bank.
After a brief but thorough survey, we departed Riley Rock. A journal entry I made at the
time succinctly describes our mood at that point: “Saw an island and walked to it. TOO FAR!
No site, found iguanas. Now we have to go back.” On the way back we made a quick stop to
examine an odd limestone formation near Riley Rock (Figure 2-33). The presence of fish-net
flotsam snagged on the top of this 2 meter tall “mushroom” formation provided additional insight
into the range of water levels in the region.
The role of Riley Rock
Given its inaccessibility, I argue that Riley Rock played no role in indigenous settlement
patterns. Yet our adventure there was instructive. If an iguana population can thrive on this
island, then at least some part of it must remain dry and sheltered in even the worst of tempests.
From 1752 to 2007, 28 hurricanes and tropical storms severe enough to be noted in the historical
record for the damage and/or loss of life they caused have impacted the Turks & Caicos (Sadler
2007). Some of the more recent ones have been monsters. In the September, 1945 hurricane,
“The U.S. weather station on South Caicos, before being destroyed, recorded winds of over 150
MPH” (Sadler 2007). In 1960, Hurricane Donna pounded the Caicos Islands, left half the
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population homeless, and destroyed what was left of South Caicos’ salt industry. In 1985, the
eye of Hurricane Kate passed over Grand Turk and then the Caicos, destroying all of the crops
on Middle and North Caicos and wrecking the town of Bottle Creek, North Caicos (Sadler 2007).
Yet through it all, Riley Rock’s iguanas survived. This suggests that even the most devastating
storms do not produce surges in the Caicos Bank in excess of 6 meters. Very likely, this explains
why middens at sites like Horse Cay, Plandon Cay, and Middleton Cay were destroyed while
those on Dove Cay and Long Cay survived.
Conclusion
This survey indicates that small cays of the Caicos Bank played an important role in the
settlement strategies of the region’s early indigenous colonists. In the vicinity of South Caicos,
there are more sites on the surrounding small cays (n=5) than there are on the big island of South
Caicos (n=2). Moreover, several of the small cay sites are big—physically larger and more
archaeologically substantial than all but a few of the dozens of known sites in the Caicos Islands.
This topic will be thoroughly explored in Chapter 7, in context with the results of the rest of the
surveys and excavations.
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Figure 2-1. Map of the Caicos Bank and associated land masses.
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Figure 2-2. Aerial photo of Long Cay, as viewed from the north.
Figure 2-3. Marshy area of Long Cay.
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Figure 2-4. One of the many rock iguanas (Cyclura carinata) of Long Cay.
Figure 2-5. The windward shore of Long Cay. For a sense of scale, consider that the waves
breaking against the rocks that day were 10 to 12 feet high.
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Figure 2-6. Satellite view of Long Cay showing sites and activity areas discovered by the
survey. Map created in Google Earth.
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Figure 2-7. The conch pile assigned designation LC-AA01, as viewed from the south. Note the
limestone outcropping in the center background and light-colored soil at far right.
Figure 2-8. Higher-elevation view of submerged conch piles associated with the northern end of
LC-AA01.
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Figure 2-9. View of LC-AA02. The prehistoric conch midden lay above the high tide line.
Note historic-era conch middens in the right background, and the difference in
vegetation between the activity area and surrounding bush.
Figure 2-10. View of Spud, facing north. Note the color contrast between the vegetation.
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Figure 2-11. The surface scatter at Spud. Note the shell tools, ceramics, and abundance of fire-
cracked rock.
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Figure 2-12. Moxie Bush, viewed from the south.
Figure 2-13. Satellite view of Moxie Bush (left center) with relationship to South Caicos (at
right). Image created in Google Earth.
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Figure 2-14. Photo from the east shore of Moxie Bush facing north. The dry sand extends
beyond the horizon, which is nearly 5 km distant.
Figure 2-15. Satellite view of Dove Cay (center) with relationship to South Caicos (upper right)
and Long Cay (lower left). Image created in Google Earth.
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Figure 2-16. Satellite view of Iguana Cay with relationship to South Caicos. Image created in
Google Earth.
Figure 2-17. Photo of Iguana Cay, facing west from the shore of South Caicos.
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Figure 2-18. The “conch crawl” of Iguana Cay.
Figure 2-19. Horse Cay and its relationship to South Caicos. Image created in Google Earth.
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Figure 2-20. The undulating coastline of Six Hills Cays. Image created in Google Earth.
Figure 2-21. One of the many dense stands of Six Hills Cays cactus.
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Figure 2-22. Pete Sinelli negotiating the steep, barren cliffs of the western island of Six Hills
Cays. The water is a sheer 8m drop from this position.
Figure 2-23. Matt Kear surveying Six Hills Cays. Note the sooty terns and the steep,
inaccessible coastline of the island’s southern shore in the background.
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Figure 2-24. The magnificent female osprey guarding her nest, located just behind and below
her, from the intruding archaeologists.
Figure 2-25. The historic-era conch pile at the extreme western end of the Six Hills Cays.
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Figure 2-26. The shacks on the northernmost tip of Plandon Cay.
Figure 2-27. Preparing for the swim from Plandon Cay to Middle Creek Cay. From left to
right, field school participants Jen Riley, Tiffany Cosgrove, and Winn Phillips.
Middle Creek Cay is in the background.
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Figure 2-28. View from the top of Middle Creek Cay, facing northeast. McCartney Cay lay in
the center background.
Figure 2-29. View from the top of Middle Creek Cay, facing northwest. Note the palm forest
and large trees in the lower left, and the mangrove swamp in the center
background.
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Figure 2-30. Crossing the flats between Middle Creek Cay and Riley Rock.
Figure 2-31. Pete Sinelli surveying the “mushroom” feature near Riley Rock. A thorough
reconnaissance found no sites, but the tangled blue fishing net provides some
insight into the range of tidal surges in this area.
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CHAPTER 3
THE TURKS BANK SURVEYS
This chapter describes the surveys of cays situated on the Turks Bank. As in the previous
chapter, I begin with a review of the geography, physical nature, and biology of the Turks Bank
and its islands. Next I briefly discuss the logistical and theoretical considerations that helped
shape the parameters of the survey and review the methods and strategies we employed.
Thereafter, I discuss the survey of each island in detail, and conclude each discussion with an
interpretation of how each individual piece may have fit into the larger regional picture.
Geographical, Physical, and Biological Descriptions of the Turks Bank
Geography Of The Turks Bank
With an area of 607 square kilometers, the Turks Bank is the smallest of the three banks
in Turks & Caicos territorial waters (Keegan et al. 2008:Table 1). Ten named islands with a total
land area of 26.7 square kilometers are dispersed somewhat randomly across the bank (Figure 3-
1). Grand Turk is the largest island in the group, and also the most densely populated. It
measures 17.39 square kilometers in area, but much of the island’s interior is abandoned salt-
industry ponds that are flooded at each high tide. Grand Turk has been the seat of the Turks &
Caicos Islands government for centuries and supports a population of around 6,000 permanent
residents (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics:2008c). Until recently, Grand Turk
attracted around 10,000 tourists annually, most of whom were adventure-seeking SCUBA
enthusiasts drawn to the island’s stunning wall dives, laid back atmosphere, and quirky colonial
charm. However, the island was instantly transformed into a major destination in February 2006
with the opening of the Grand Turk Cruise Terminal, and now more than 300,000 visitors drop in
each year (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics:2008d).
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Salt Cay is the second largest island in the Turks group, and the Turks Bank’s only other
land mass with permanent residents. Presently 114 souls call Salt Cay home (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics:2008c). Salt Cay has a total area of 6.74 square kilometers,
but as with Grand Turk, this figure is deceptive. Much of the island’s interior is covered in
decrepit salt distillation ponds, and most buildings and homes are situated on a narrow strip of
land between these ponds and the island’s western shore. When combined, Salt Cay and Grand
Turk account for more than 90% of the total land mass on the Turks Bank.
The remaining 8 named islands on the Turks Bank are currently uninhabited, although
that has not always been the case historically. Cotton Cay was intensively farmed during the
Loyalist plantation era (circa 1790 to 1820), and Big Sand Cay, Pinzon Cay, and Gibbs Cay bear
limited evidence of historic activity. The remaining islands of Long Cay, Pear Cay, Penniston
Cay, and Round Cay were never settled in historic times.
Five of the Turks Bank cays are protected under the umbrella of the Grand Turks Cays
Land & Sea National Park. Gibbs Cay, Long Cay, Penniston Cay, Pear Cay, and Pinzon Cay are
owned by the government, are protected from development, and land access is allowed by permit
only (Department of Environment and Coastal Resources 2008). However, Gibbs Cay is a bit of
an exception. Tourists on Grand Turk have been day tripping there for years. They enjoy the
beautiful beach and snorkel and swim with the tame stingrays, who are so accustomed to people
(and a free lunch of conch parts, courtesy of the tour boat driver), that they swim by the dozens
right up to the boats as they approach. With the opening of the Cruise Terminal in 2006 there
was some concern that Gibbs Cay would be overrun by tourists and its friendly stingrays driven
off by the commotion. Fortunately, Government established strict limits on the number of
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tourists and tour boats permitted to visit the island each day (Mitch Rollings, personal
communication 2004), which should preserve this unique habitat well into the future.
Physical Description of the Turks Bank
There are considerable differences between the Turks Bank and the Caicos Bank.
Overall these differences conspire to make the Turks Bank far less productive than its western
neighbor, and consequently, less attractive to prehistoric settlers.
The first and most obvious difference is size. At 607 km2, the Turks Bank is only 8.9%
as large as the Caicos Bank (Keegan et al. 2008:Table 1). Even if the Turks Bank and Caicos
Bank were identical in all other respects, the size difference alone would translate into more than
a 90% reduction in total marine resource availability. Moreover, the Turks Bank has a greater
average depth. The waters of the eastern half of the bank range in depth from 12 to 30 meters,
which makes it more difficult to collect bottom-dwelling marine resources like conch.
The second difference is the degree to which the Turks Bank is protected from the open
sea. Geographers classify the Caicos Bank as “Sheltered” and the Turks Bank as “Fully
Exposed” (Keegan et al. 2008:Table 1). The Caicos Bank is viewed as such because a series of
contiguous islands and/or a fringing reef system abut more than three-quarters of its 375
kilometer perimeter. In contrast, the Turks Bank has neither a fringing reef system nor any
contiguously arranged land masses along its 137 kilometer perimeter (Keegan et al. 2008:Table
1). Consequently, the only reliably calm waters on the Turks Bank are found adjacent to the lee
(western) shores of its islands. Because the Turks Islands are much smaller than the Caicos (26.7
km2 versus 589.6 km2), and Grand Turk and Salt Cay account for 90% of the Turks Bank’s total
land mass (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics:2008b), there is a lot less land
available to create a calm lee area in the first place.
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A third factor is where the islands are positioned on the bank. Grand Turk and Salt Cay
lie on the extreme western edge of the geological platform that forms the Turks Bank. The lee
beach of Grand Turk is rarely more than 600 meters from the wall that drops precipitously to
depths exceeding 3000 meters. On Salt Cay, the shelf is even closer: never more than 150
meters from any beach on the western shore, and as close as 30 meters off Balfour Town, the
main population center. In sum, only a tiny fraction of the Turks Bank is afforded any protection
by the two islands that comprise more than 90% of the Turks Bank’s land mass.
Some sheltered waters lie in the lee of Cotton Cay, Long Cay, Pinzon Cay, Pear Cay, and
Big Sand Cay. But these islands, even when considered together, are small when compared to
Grand Turk and Salt Cay. Moreover, these islands are not near each other, and lie windward of
the big islands. As such, they have nothing to protect them from the prevailing easterlies and the
massive waves that these winds produce—the nearest land mass east of these islands is Africa!
Although some very nice reefs are found leeward of these islands, especially west of Long Cay,
they can be difficult to reach. Since these islands lie in isolation from each other, the waters
between them are usually rough, and often dangerously so. This makes getting to these islands
difficult—one must brave the swells for a considerable distance before reaching their sheltered
leeward waters (Figure 3-2).
A final consideration is the aridity of the Turks Islands. In general, rainfall in the
Bahama archipelago is greatest in the northwest and diminishes steadily as one travels southeast.
Given the Turks & Caicos’ location at the extreme southeastern end of the archipelago, it is
perhaps unsurprising that these islands receive, on average, less than a third of the precipitation
of Grand Bahama and Abaco (Keegan 1992:29). Dramatic differences in precipitation are also
present among the Turks & Caicos themselves; the islands become increasingly arid as one
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moves east. This disparity is caused by the nature of rainfall in the Turks & Caicos. Sullivan
(1981:8-10) describes it well:
In this area a majority of rainfall comes from convection cells generated by the
sun-heated land masses… As the heated column of air rises from the island, it is
carried into cooler ambient air with resultant cumulus cloud formation. These
columns are often powerful enough to penetrate sufficiently cool levels of the
atmosphere that the dew point is reached and cumulonimbus clouds are formed.
Were these clouds stationary, then the rainfall would be evenly distributed across
the island… The Turks and Caicos are within the northern range of the
southeasterly trade winds, however, and the cloud formations normally move
southeast to northwest. This is especially true in the summer months when the
trade winds and cumulonimbus clouds are at their peak of occurrence. The result
is a rainfall cline on the individual islands, increasing to the northwest, which is
compounded by chains of islands. East Caicos, Middle Caicos, and North Caicos
act as a single island of nearly 40 miles in length in the generation of convective
rainfall.
The scenario Sullivan describes explains why Parrot Cay and Pine Cay on the northwest
end of the Caicos chain receive around 1,200 mm of rain a year (Sullivan 1981:10), but
southeastern islands like Salt Cay and Grand Turk receive only about half of that—575 mm per
annum, on average (The Weather Channel 2008). The Turks Bank islands’ persistent aridity is
one more byproduct of the their location, small size, and non-contiguous spacing. It affects the
viability of crops and the availability of fresh water sources on these islands, which would
certainly factor into indigenous peoples’ settlement strategies.
When the Turks Bank’s size, degree of protection, and island configuration are taken into
consideration, the total percentage of the Turks Bank that is amenable to human foraging
activities is very small indeed. This is not to say that the bank is unproductive; it is merely
productive in circumscribed areas and at a far smaller scale than the Caicos Bank. Furthermore,
these resources come at a higher cost. It is difficult—and during squally weather, impossible—
to move between the productive areas, given where the islands are positioned on the bank and
the open water between them. The islands’ persistent aridity further complicates the matter, as
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rainfall for cultivation and fresh drinking water was less abundant. When viewed in these terms,
it is clear that the Turks Bank would have been far less attractive to indigenous settlers than its
bigger, calmer, wetter, brother to the west.
Biology of the Turks Bank
The biology of the Turks Bank is generally similar to that of the Caicos Bank. Therefore
I will not discuss the particulars of the marine and terrestrial habitats since these were covered in
the previous chapter. Also, there is scant cause to discuss the modern Turks Bank fishery. Most
of the bank is protected as marine preserves and commercial fishing is banned. Small-scale
fishing, conching, and lobstering occurs, but primarily to put dinner on the tables of local
households. Therefore, I focus this section on the manner in which the Turks Bank resources
were exploited by indigenous peoples over time.
Turks Bank Exploitation in Prehistory
In her excellent dissertation, Betsy Carlson (1999) offers a thorough analysis of the
faunal assemblage at the Coralie site (GT-3) on Grand Turk. Coralie is the oldest known site in
the southern Bahama archipelago and is thought to represent the first human foray into the area.
Because Carlson’s analysis begins with the first occupation of the Turks Bank, her work paints a
picture of how the local biology appeared in a pristine state. It also demonstrates how that
biology changed due to human predation over time. The terminal occupation horizon at Coralie,
circa AD 1170 (Carlson 1999:52), coincides with the arrival of Meillacan-affiliated people in the
Turks & Caicos, and there are interesting differences between faunal assemblages recovered
from the earliest and latest strata.
Faunal data from Coralie is complemented by information from the Governor’s Beach
site (GT-2), also on Grand Turk. Governor’s Beach is a Meillacan site that dates to AD 1100-
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1300 (Carlson and Keegan 2004:89). Thus, it shares a culture history and is contemporaneous
with the Caicos Bank sites I discuss in subsequent chapters. Combined, these sites offer
excellent insight into how the Turks Bank fauna would have appeared in prehistory, and which
resources would have been available to them over time. I examine the faunal record at both of
these sites below.
The Coralie site
Coralie was occupied for a long time, but the settlement was impermanent. Radiocarbon
evidence indicates that it was inhabited sporadically from around AD 700 to AD 1170 (Carlson
1999:52,217). The ceramic assemblage was executed entirely in the Ostionan Ostionoid style
and was imported from Hispaniola (Cordell 1998). This fact clearly suggests that the colonists
hailed from that island and brought the pots with them on their occasional visits.
Coralie lies on the northern end of Grand Turk, on the western shore of North Creek, a
large inland bay, near its mouth to the ocean (Carlson 1999:22). This location “provided easy
access to many habitats including mangrove, inland lagoon, tidal flats, rocky shore, sea grass
beds, coral reefs, deep water, and inland scrublands, which could all be exploited for their animal
inhabitants (Carlson 1999:23). And exploit they did: Carlson identified a remarkable 126 faunal
taxa at the site, including 6 reptiles, 21 birds, 35 fish, 4 crustaceans, 43 gastropods, 22 bivalves, 3
echinoderms, and one amphineuran (the West Indian Fuzzy Chiton) (Calrson 1999:63-65).
In total, 94% of the meat consumed at Coralie came from the sea (Carlson and Keegan
2004:90), which is in line with our expectations about the subsistence habits of a marine-oriented
people. Yet strangely, this component was not dominated by fish, but by Green sea turtles
(Chelonia mydas), which accounted for 77% of the total biomass. Terrestrial animals accounted
for only 6% of the meat consumed, but they injected a lot of the variety in the diet. They
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comprised 49% of the MNI recovered at the site, indicating that the inhabitants invested
“considerable effort and time into harvesting terrestrial species such as birds, tortoises, and
iguanas” (Carlson and Keegan 2004:90).
When viewed in its entirety, the faunal assemblage of Coralie is atypical of sites in the
Turks & Caicos. Three aspects of the Coralie site explain the outlying nature of its deposits.
First is the site’s location. Wing and Scudder (1983) found on the Caicos Bank that
people tended to focus on whatever was nearby—in that case, reef resources at MC-12 and tidal
flats resources at MC-6. In contrast, Coralie was situated adjacent to virtually every type of
animal habitat that exists in the Turks & Caicos Islands. Very likely, the diversity of the deposits
reflects the diversity of creatures that were readily available and could be collected with little
effort. Thus, the occupants of Coralie did not specialize on a particular basket of resources
because they did not need to.
The second factor is the site’s timing. Coralie is thought to reflect the first human
presence in the region, and these initial colonists would have arrived to a pristine ecology
virtually untouched by human predation. It is a well understood archaeological fact that that the
first humans to reach an island tend to go after the “low hanging fruit” before shifting their
subsistence strategy to items that are more difficult or costly to obtain or have lower nutritional
or social value (for a relevant sample of this voluminous literature, see Carlson and Keegan
2004; Keegan et al. 2008; Kirch 2000). Carlson directly observed this phenomenon at Coralie:
“the inhabitants ate the largest sea turtles, iguanas, birds, groupers, snappers, and lobsters at the
beginning of their occupation on Grand Turk”, but the number of sea turtles and the size of
iguanas and fish declined over time as the largest and/or easiest things to catch gradually
diminished in numbers.
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The third factor is social in nature. Toward the end of the Coralie occupation in the 12th
century AD, the faunal assemblage had shifted to reflect changes in resource availability, yet still
remained distinct from assemblages at the contemporary Governor’s Beach site on Grand Turk
as well as those in the Caicos Islands. Carlson argued, and I agree, that these differences in
subsistence were due to social differences between the peoples who inhabited these sites. The
Coralie population used imported Ostionan ceramics, which links them to populations in Puerto
Rico and eastern Hispaniola. The other sites were settled by a people with ties to the Meillacan
producing populations along the northern coast of Hispaniola. Their sites are different because
they were settled by different people with a different heritage, ceramic tradition, subsistence
plan, settlement strategy and worldview (sensu Carlson 1999:212).
For these three reasons, the Coralie site is not the best proxy to reconstruct the
subsistence strategy of subsequent settlements. Still, the faunal record at Coralie is instructive to
this analysis because it paints a clear picture of what remained available to later residents of the
region.
The Governor’s Beach site
The Governor’s Beach site lay adjacent to the lee beach on the southwestern side of
Grand Turk. This places it approximately 12 km from Coralie, and at the opposite end of the
island. Radiocarbon dates indicate that Governor’s Beach was occupied from AD 1100 to 1300
(Carlson and Keegan 2004:89), and with the exception of a single Ostionan sherd, the entire
ceramic assemblage is Meillacan. Keegan (2007:88) describes it as a seasonally-occupied
outpost established by people from Haiti to manufacture beads out of the brilliant red shells of
the thorny jewelbox (Chama sarda). These beads would have had much value as ritually-
imbued exotic items, and their worth would have more than compensated for the time and effort
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spent in transit (Keegan 2007:88). Excavations in the early 1990s yielded more than 1,500
complete beads, more than 4,400 bead blanks, and a variety of tools used in the manufacturing
process (Keegan 2007:88). Interestingly, it appears that the site was abandoned suddenly, as if
the residents were driven off by a hostile force. Almost 400 completed beads were intentionally
burned and destroyed, and a number of valuable and status items were abandoned (Keegan
2007:90). Keegan (2007) and Carlson (1993, 1999) have interpreted this as evidence of conflict
between the Governor’s Beach residents and some other group, possibly their neighbors at
Coralie, with whom they shared the island for a period in the 12th century. Raiders from
contemporaneous settlements in the Caicos Islands could also be responsible.
The faunal assemblage at Governor’s Beach is unremarkable when compared to that of
Coralie. None of the turtle, iguana, tortoise, large fish, lobster, and birds that were common at
Coralie were present at Governor’s Beach. Instead, the residents focused on conch, land crabs,
and fish. Of the latter, grunts (Haemulon sp.) were the clear favorite, accounting for 78% of the
entire vertebrate assemblage by MNI (Carlson and Keegan 2004:93). Interestingly, most of the
fish remains were “head elements” (Keegan 2007:89), and “only 71 vertebrae were recovered
even though all the matrix was fine screened” (Carlson 1999:145). The abundance of grunts led
Carlson (1999:146) to infer that the site’s inhabitants were laying traps or netting these fish on
shallow reefs, which are abundant in that area. Carlson also reasoned that since the Governor’s
Beach site was only used to make shell beads, these simple methods of food capture “may have
been the easiest way to meet basic subsistence needs while performing their primary task there”
(1999:146), a hypothesis repeated by Keegan (2007:90). The dominance of head parts in the
assemblage also suggests that at least some of the catch was prepared for export back to Haiti
(Keegan 2007:171). The catch could have been cured with salt collected from a tidal basin just
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inland of the site, or preserved for transport by smoking (Carlson 1993). In any event, the
Governor’s Beach faunal assemblage does not reflect the full panoply of land and sea animals
available on the Turks Bank. Moreover, as a seasonal, special purpose site, it does not reflect the
full range of subsistence behavior documented in the archaeological record. Nevertheless, it
demonstrates that small groups of people could, at a minimum, sustain themselves on the Turks
Bank’s available resources, and even have a little surplus left to take home after their stay. This
point is significant, as it demonstrates that human settlement in the Turks Islands is possible even
though the marine environment is not nearly as productive as that of the Caicos Bank.
Site GT-4
Shortly before we arrived a new Grand Turk site was brought to the attention of Nigel
Sadler, who was then the director of the Turks & Caicos National Museum. On June 7, 2004,
Mr. Sadler drove us to the site, which is located adjacent to the beach on the western shore of
Grand Turk, approximately 2.5 km north of downtown Cockburn Town. The site, designated
GT-4, lies adjacent to a housing development and has been disturbed by construction. The
southern portion of the site appears to lie under someone’s back yard, and a drainage ditch cuts
on an east-west axis through the site’s center. Our brief surface reconnaissance did not yield
much in the way of diagnostic cultural material, so I was unable to establish so much as a
preliminary cultural affiliation. However, a more recent examination of GT-4 suggests that the
site is “virtually identical to the Governor’s Beach site” (William Keegan, personal
communication 2008), which would make GT-4 contemporaneous with several sites I examined
in the Caicos Islands. Yet, no excavations have been undertaken at GT-4. Any firm analysis of
the site’s role in early Lucayan settlement patterns will have to wait until we learn more.
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Survey Theory and Methodology
Survey Theory
The survey objectives on the Turks Bank were different from my goals on the Caicos
Bank. Essentially, I wanted to compile a complete inventory of the Turks Bank’s archaeological
resources and present these findings as a cohesive whole. Over the past decades, the Turks
Islands have been fairly well explored by amateur and professional archaeologists. Yet the
record of what they encountered remains fragmentary because there is no single source or
publication that presents it in its entirety. There are a lot of snippets, but these are largely stories
and recollections backed up by a few copies of informal field notes and GPS coordinates in the
archives of the Turks & Caicos National Museum. These were certainly helpful as I planned my
work, but they are less useful if one wants to reconstruct a fuller picture of the region’s
prehistory. Only two sites have ever been published in the literature, and these are both on
Grand Turk. Little work has been done at any of the known sites on other islands, and none of
that has been disseminated for widespread consumption. A thorough survey of the Turks
Islands, coupled with excavations at other, previously identified yet unexcavated sites, would
enable me to create a more complete picture of how the area was exploited in prehistory.
Survey Methodology
It was far easier to formulate a strategy for the Turks Bank than for the Caicos Bank.
There are only 10 Turks Islands. The two largest islands, Grand Turk and Salt Cay, have been
heavily developed and are fairly well understood archaeologically. Cotton Cay has been
surveyed several times, beginning with Bob Gascoine and associates in the early 1980s, Keegan
and Carlson in the 1990s, and Brian Riggs at various times over the past three decades. Their
collective efforts identified two sites, and our test excavations at one of these are described in
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Chapter 6. I had already surveyed Gibbs Cay on a trip in 1999, and easily located the site Brian
Riggs told me about at that time. That left only six islands to survey. I would survey all of them
to personally verify the stories and memories and informal notes once and for all, and also to see
if anything had been missed.
The team and I were scheduled to spend two weeks in the Turks Islands—one week each
on Grand Turk and Salt Cay. We planned to stay on Grand Turk first, and my initial objectives
for the week were to test excavate the site on Gibbs Cay and survey the adjacent islands Long
Cay, Penniston Cay, and Round Cay. The next week I planned to conduct subsurface testing at
one of the two known sites on Cotton Cay, test excavate the site on Salt Cay, and survey Pear
Cay, Pinzon Cay, and Big Sand Cay. But before we even arrived on Grand Turk, I had to make a
few changes.
During our stay on South Caicos I received a call from Mr. Brian Been of the Turks &
Caicos Tourist Board, who asked if we could help him with a project. At that time, the
Government was in the planning stages to develop and improve the area around South Creek
National Park on Grand Turk. Construction on the Cruise Terminal had begun, and Government
and the Tourist Board wanted to make the National Park area accessible and accommodating for
tourists on shore excursions from the ships. They were particularly interested in promoting to
tourists two 18th century artillery placements that had been established to defend the southern
approach to Grand Turk: one on Gun Hill in the South Creek National Park, and the other just
across the water on the highest point of Gibbs Cay. Mr. Been asked if we could examine Gun
Hill and the Gibbs placement, complete a brief survey of potential prehistoric activity areas
within the park’s boundaries, and submit a formal report on the results (Sinelli 2004, see
Appendix A). I accepted the opportunity to give back to the community and build goodwill, so I
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shuffled the schedule to save a day for the Gun Hill/National Park survey and a day to test
excavate the placement on Gibbs Cay.
I was unaware at the time that the entire southeastern shore of Grand Turk had been
extensively surveyed in the past. As part of a large survey project in 1990, William Keegan,
Maurice Williams, and Grethe Seim dug a series of 34 test units along the coast from
Masterson’s Point to Gun Hill, and found no evidence of indigenous occupation in the area
(Keegan et al.. 1990:9). Had I known, the team and I could have saved half a day of walking
through the park. Still, our survey of Gun Hill yielded important measurements and sketches of
the ruin, and our excavations at the emplacement on top of Gibbs Cay were the first to
scientifically explore and document that cultural resource. In the end, this work had only
minimal impact on my initial research objectives. Moreover, the report was very well received
and now there are jeep safaris throughout the wilds of the South Creek National Park, with a stop
at Gun Hill. It was also a fun occasion to do a little historical archaeology in a place and era that
I have always found fascinating. As such, our work with the Tourist Board was a success.
The Turks Bank surveys were executed in much the same manner as the Caicos Bank
surveys, with the only exception that I did not split the group into “survey teams” and
“excavation teams.” Unless someone was sick, we all went on survey together. Only after we
arrived did I split the group into two or three subunits. The reason was simple: the Turks Islands
are bigger and more remote, so it takes longer to get there and longer to complete the survey. I
needed as many feet on the ground as possible in order to cover the survey area in time to catch
the boat for the long, choppy ride back to base.
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Survey Results
As mentioned above, I originally planned to survey all six of the unexplored cays on the
Turks Bank. However, after seeing Round Cay and Penniston Cay in person, it made no sense to
survey there. Round Cay is located 500 meters southeast of Gibbs Cay and 1.9 km east of the
southern edge of Grand Turk. It is a 130 x 80 meter, dome-shaped monolith with little soil and a
few stalwart shrubs clinging to the rock. Its shores slope precipitously to the sea so there are no
beaches to access, and the waters surrounding it are so full of rocks and coral heads that our boat
driver was extremely reluctant to try an approach. Penniston Cay is located 5.2 km southeast of
Grand Turk and 2.3 km northeast of Cotton Cay. It is 630 meters long and undulates between 30
and 80 meters wide. It is almost entirely devoid of soil or vegetation and has no beaches
anywhere along its perimeter. Its rocky shores are sheer mini-cliffs that jut several meters up
from the water, so that even landing on the island would be a considerable challenge. I do not
believe that we missed anything by bypassing these barren, rocky islands. They are not the sort
of environment that indigenous peoples would have chosen for settlement. At most, they might
have dropped by on occasion to exploit the local resources, particularly at Penniston Cay, which
has a number of reefs off its western shore.
With Round Cay and Penniston Cay out of the picture, the team had to survey only four
cays on the Turks Bank. Each island is discussed below in the chronological order in which it
was surveyed. In each case I first describe the cay’s location and offer a brief physical
description. Next I discuss the particulars of the survey: when it occurred and what was
discovered or observed. Finally I interpret these results and examine how each cay may have
featured in indigenous settlement patterns. A comprehensive summary of what I learned from
the surveys follows at the end of the chapter.
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The Survey of Long Cay
Long Cay is part of the Grand Turks Land & Sea National Park, but enjoys additional
protection as the Long Cay Sanctuary for birds and wildlife (Department of Environment and
Coastal Resources 2008). Like its twin on the Caicos Bank, Long Cay is long and narrow
(Figure 3-3). The island is 1.9 km from tip to tip, between 30 and 140 meters wide, is oriented
on a northwest to southeast axis, and covers a total area of 18.58 hectares (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). Long Cay has some elevation, with a ridge that rises
to perhaps 15 meters above sea level at its apex near the middle of the island. From that point
southward the island is generally higher, with the northern half being flatter and of lower
elevation. There are a few small beaches scattered along the island’s lee shore. In general, the
waters to the lee of the island are quite calm when compared to swells on the open bank,
sheltered as they are by Long Cay’s nearly 2 km length. The windward shore is typical of these
islands—scoured rock with no soil or vegetation. On the southern, elevated half of the island the
windward shore usually rises in a sheer cliff several meters above the pounding surf. Since the
northern half is lower and flatter, there are fewer cliffs and a more gentle, rocky slope to the
water. In any event, there is evidence that most of the island is awash in large storms. Flotsam
litters the western shore, even in places where the cliffs are 5 or more meters above sea level
(Figure 3-4). The debris is deposited by large, powerful waves with enough force to drop an
enormous tree trunk on one of the highest parts of Long Cay, near the apex of the central ridge
(Figure 3-5). The cumulative effect of these waves also created an interesting feature that we
would see on windward shores throughout our Turks Bank surveys. They have constructed a
rock “wall” as rocks and boulders have been washed inland (Figure 3-6). It is like the undulating
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band of sea foam left on the sand as a wave reaches its maximum surge up the beach and then
retreats, albeit on a much grander and more terrific scale. Like all the Turks Islands, Long Cay
receives little rainfall and is very dry. Consequently, vegetation on the island is dominated by
low grasses, some stunted patches of sea grape, and numerous cactus stands. Few plants
exceeded a meter in height. There were no mangroves, even in the sheltered lee where these
plants are frequently found, probably because of the island’s exposure to wave action.
Mangroves like calm water.
We surveyed Long Cay on June 8, 2004. Brian Riggs (personal communication 2008)
told me of a site “somewhere” on Long Cay where, in the early 1990s, he found a “single
Palmetto ware sherd in a conch pile” (Keegan et al.1994:9). He did not have precise directions
or coordinates, but we wanted to locate it and evaluate its potential. Beyond that, we intended to
conduct a pedestrian survey only, and if we found anything of note, return later in the week to
complete some subsurface tests. Consequently we did not bring any excavation or testing
equipment. We approached from the west and disembarked on a nice little beach near the south-
center of the lee coast, about 475 meters from the southern tip. We were immediately accosted
by flocks of Brown Noddies (Anous stolidus) (Sibley 2000:239) that enjoy the protection of the
Long Cay Sanctuary (Figure 3-7). Evidently we arrived during the peak of nesting season, and
the birds were quite distressed with the intrusion. Since they lay their well-camouflaged eggs
directly on the ground rather than in a nest (Figure 3-8), we had to be very careful not to step on
any. Nevertheless, the ingrate Noddies did not appreciate our thoughtfulness and they harassed
us relentlessly until we left the island hours later.
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Survey results
The Somewhere Activity Area. We found evidence of prehistoric activity on Long Cay
within minutes of our arrival. There were several punched conch in a flat, sandy area
immediately adjacent to the beach where we landed (Figure 3-3). The flat, sandy area was level
and roughly circular, with a diameter of about 20 meters. It lay approximately 2 meters above
sea level, in an area that is among the lower parts of the island. Initially I thought we had landed
right on Brian Riggs’ site “somewhere” on Long Cay, but a thorough surface reconnaissance did
not yield any more pottery, other cultural material, soil changes, burnt rock, or other features.
The sand was a uniform light color identical to that of the beach. This makes sense given the
low elevation of the area and the propensity of large waves to wash over Long Cay. As
mentioned above, we were not equipped to do any sub-surface testing, and I was unwilling to
return all the way to Long Cay to test what could only have been a very small site in the first
place.
Still, “Somewhere” presents a conceptual problem. The available evidence suggests that
this area is little more than a simple conch-kill spot. However, given the enormous scouring
power of wave action on Long Cay, which is very well evidenced across the island, it is
reasonable to hypothesize that there was a site here, but it has been destroyed. There is also a
strong theoretical basis supporting a “destroyed site” hypothesis. We landed immediately
adjacent to the site because it was the finest beach on the lee side of the island. This is exactly
the environment in which one expects to find a site. In fact, our survey revealed that if
indigenous people were to settle Long Cay, they could not find a more suitable location
anywhere else on the island. Furthermore, placing a site there would make perfect economic
sense. It is near the center of the lee shore, making it a central location from which to exploit all
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of the marine resources in the protected waters on the island’s western side. Small reefs are
abundant here, and we observed massive 3-foot-long parrotfish (Scarus sp.), possibly Blue
Parrotfish (Scarus coeruleus) because of their color and size, lolling along within meters of the
lee shoreline. Additionally, we encountered hundreds of empty West Indian Topsnail (Cittarium
pica) shells washed up on the rocky eastern shore, and observed hundreds more live animals
attached to the rocks in the water. These gastropods thrive on rocky coastlines like that of Long
Cay and would have been an attractive food source. Finally, as we discovered first hand, there is
an abundant, seasonally-available terrestrial resource: bird eggs. They are so numerous that you
literally have to try not step on them. Moreover, the defensive, dive-bombing behavior of the
birds themselves would make them fairly easy to net during their nesting season.
No matter how compelling the theoretical arguments may be, I must reject the destroyed
site hypothesis out of pure conservatism. “Somewhere” may indeed be a real site—Brian Riggs’
single Palmetto ware sherd suggests as much—but there is not enough tangible data to support
that assertion at this time. In keeping with the classification system I outlined in the previous
chapter, I classify Somewhere as an activity area, based on the presence of the punched conch.
Additional features. The only other evidence of human activity we encountered were
two small areas of slightly darker soil scattered with small amounts of fire cracked rock. Neither
of these was more than a few meters across, and no other cultural material was observed. I
interpret these as the remains of modern fire pits which had been scattered about and washed
around by wave action. There is certainly no compelling reason to believe they have any
antiquity. Beyond that, no other areas of activity were identified. The truth is, if they were ever
there, they probably would have been destroyed by the North Atlantic’s fury long ago.
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The role of Long Cay
Long Cay is not suitable for permanent occupation. It is too exposed to the sea and much
of the island is washed over by wave action. Beyond the danger to life and limb, these storms
would have obliterated structures and material goods, which would have been quite a
disincentive to establish much of a long-term presence on the island. Still, it is an attractive
environment from an economic perspective. At nearly 2 km long, Long Cay creates the third-
largest sheltered lee on the Turks Bank. Only Grand Turk and Salt Cay have a larger wind and
wave shadow, and their proximity to the edge of the platform considerably truncates the area of
bank they protect. Consequently, the waters west of Long Cay must be among the most
productive in the region. Moreover, topsnail are abundant on the east side, and the seasonal
availability of multitudes of easily collected bird eggs are a valuable asset. I find it difficult to
imagine that indigenous peoples did not recognize these facts and exploit the area, perhaps
setting up small camps like the Somewhere activity area on a seasonal, intermittent basis.
However, the lack of any convenient fresh water source would have certainly limited the
duration of their stay.
The precise manner in which Long Cay was occupied in prehistory—if it even was—is
difficult to prove given the available data. Over the intervening centuries the waves have all but
scrubbed the island of any archaeological evidence.
The Survey of Big Sand Cay
Big Sand Cay is not part of the Grand Turks Cays Land & Sea National Park, but it is
protected as the Big Sand Cay Sanctuary for birds and wildlife (Department of Environment and
Coastal Resources 2008). It is the southernmost island in the entire Bahama archipelago, and
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lies 11.2 km south-southwest of the southern tip of Salt Cay, or 14.5 km from the Salt Cay
harbor at Balfour Town. Big Sand Cay is approximately 2.5 km long and between 200 and 400
meters wide, for a total land area of 57.95 hectares (Department of Economic Planning and
Statistics 2008b). The island is elevated to about 20 meters at its northern and southern ends. In
the middle the landscape is flatter and lower. A steep, rocky cay just east of the northern half of
the island is attached to the main land mass by a narrow isthmus, creating a sheltered, shallow
lagoon (Figure 3-9). This islet protects the northern half of Big Sand Cay from wave action, so
the windward shore there was a gently sloping beach to the lagoon and not the bare, scoured rock
we encountered on all the other cays’ eastern sides. The southern half of the island has no
protection, however, and was typical of the windward coasts of the others. We did not observe
any signs of wave action in the island’s interior as we noted on Long Cay. The island is
elevated, but the lack of overwashing may also be due to the local morphology of the bank. The
water east of Big Sand Cay is shallower than the water east of the islands to the north, so the
bottom would break the swells and diminish their energy before they hit the island. Along the
western shore in the center of the island lay one of the most beautiful beaches in the Turks and
Caicos Islands, or anywhere else in my opinion (Figure 3-10). This area is a favorite anchorage
for touring sailboats, and hosts more than a few day-tripping tourists from Salt Cay. However,
there is absolutely no infrastructure to support their visits.
By virtue of the island’s position at the extreme end of the archipelago and its isolation
from other islands, Big Sand Cay is extremely dry. The vegetation reflects the lack of rainfall.
The ground is covered by the same xeric, salt-resistant plants that inhabit the salinas on the big
Caicos islands, and there are a great many stands of cactus. There are no trees, or any shrub
higher than eye level (Figure 3-11). Still, Big Sand Cay is full of animal life. Rock iguanas
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thrive on the plentiful cactus under the protection of the Big Sand Cay sanctuary. Small lizards
are common, and as on Long Cay, birds are everywhere.
We surveyed Big Sand Cay on June 14, 2004. Big Sand Cay is the most remote island
we surveyed and the waters between it and Salt Cay are unsheltered and rough. It was a rolling
and occasionally queasy 90 minute ride to the island. We disembarked near the northern end of
the lee beach. From there the entire team moved north to Big Sand Cay’s northern tip, then
turned back to head south. At that point I divided the team into two subgroups and we advanced
along the eastern and western shores. Given the lack of any sizeable vegetation, the teams were
always within sight of each other.
We found that Big Sand Cay was filled to Hitchcockian proportions with Sooty Terns
(Sterna fuscata). This bird nests on the ground and “virtually never perches” (Sibley 2000:238),
so Big Sand Cay’s low vegetation and open landscape makes an ideal rookery. It seemed that
every Sooty Tern in the West Indies was on Big Sand Cay tending a nest on the day we surveyed
(Figure 3-12). The terns were no happier to see us than the Brown Noddies were the week
before, but this time we came prepared. We observed that the Brown Noddies liked to swoop
down at our heads before turning away at the last instant. Toward the end of our visit to Long
Cay, we realized that if we held a long stick up straight in the air, it confused the birds and they
would go after the top of it instead of the top of us. So, we all found a long piece of driftwood or
bamboo on Salt Cay and brought them along to Big Sand Cay. We spent the entire survey
marching around like a medieval European infantry unit with pikes at the ready (Figure 3-13). I
am sure we looked funny to our boat driver, but it worked, and you cannot argue with results.
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Survey results
Prehistoric activity. The ten of us surveyed Big Sand Cay for the better part of a day
and did not observe so much as a single punched conch shell. I paid particular attention to the
beach surrounding the lagoon that lay protected by the small windward islet. Theory suggests
this arrangement would be a fine place to establish a site, yet nothing was observed. There is no
evidence that indigenous peoples ever occupied the island.
Modern activity. There is ample evidence of modern activity on the northern end of Big
Sand Cay, where the island is widest and highest. A small, 4x4-meter abandoned concrete
building sits adjacent to the crumpled remains of a large radio antenna and a modern, functioning
navigational beacon (Figure 3-14). Only the base of the antenna remains, and I assume that the
rest of its metal structure was salvaged for scrap. A derelict truck, probably used to move people
and materials around when the radio antenna was operational, sat rusting nearby. Given Big
Sand Cay’s isolated location, the navigational beacon made sense. It is there to warn sailors
about the island and its shoals. But the antenna and concrete building seemed out of place—
what could anyone possibly want to transmit out there in the middle of nowhere? Since it made
no difference to the day’s mission I did not think much about it at the time. That changed the
next day when we encountered an even odder assortment of materials on Pinzon Cay (described
below), and prompted me to file a Freedom of Information Act request with the United States
Department of Defense as soon as I returned home.
My request wound its way through the Department of Defense and several Navy
commands. Eventually, in September 2004 I received a substantial package from the Naval
Facilities Engineering Command in Norfolk, Virginia. The package included dozens of
documents with all kinds of interesting and useful facts and tidbits about the United States’
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decades-long military presence in the Turks & Caicos Islands. I mention this here because I was
very impressed with how my Freedom of Information Act request was handled, and I want to
encourage my colleagues to take advantage of this useful and surprisingly efficient government
service in their own research.
It is well known that the United States military maintained a substantial presence in the
Turks & Caicos from the early 1950s until the early 1980s. North Caicos had a submarine
communications cable facility (Department of State 1972). South Caicos had a Coast Guard
station (Department of State 1979), and an oceanographic research facility (Department of State
1956). However, the largest military presence was on Grand Turk. On the south end of the
island the Navy established the U.S. Naval Facility on Grand Turk and the Air Force operated
the Grand Turk Auxiliary Air Force Base. There were also a radar station, a telemetry station,
and a missile destruct station at the north end of the island near the lighthouse (Facilities
Engineering Department 1969). These were part of the Air Force’s Bahamas Long Range
Proving Ground which was established in 1952 “for testing the flight of guided missiles and
associated equipment and for training with such missiles and equipment” (Department of State
1952). All of this infrastructure was pivotal to the United States’ regional Cold War strategy
against the Soviet Union, and later, Cuba. It was also instrumental to our manned space program
as a downrange tracking station for every mission from Alan Shepherd’s first Mercury flight
through the Apollo program (Facilities Engineering Department 1969). Interestingly, John
Glenn factors into Turks & Caicos lore: Grand Turk was his first landfall after he completed the
first American orbital mission in 1962 (Turks and Caicos National Museum 2008). His fellow
Mercury astronaut Scott Carpenter landed there the next year as well.
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Although one would not immediately associate the Turks & Caicos with the Space Race
and Cold War intrigue, this military infrastructure played an important role in that era’s
geopolitics, and left a substantial and lasting footprint on the islands as a result. The United
States military turned over the naval bases and the air field to the British Government on March
31, 1980. Today the U.S. Naval Facility on Grand Turk houses most of the Turks & Caicos
Government’s ministerial offices, and the Grand Turk Auxiliary Air Force Base, after a
makeover, functions as Grand Turk International Airport. Smaller Turks Islands were impacted
as well. According to the cover letter I received in the package from Ms. Sandy Frantz of the
Naval Facilities Engineering Command, “The Navy used Grand Turk and the Caicos Islands for
telecommunications operations” and that there were “trigonometrical stations located on some of
the adjacent cays” (Frantz, personal communication 2004, Appendix A). Big Sand Cay’s
position at the extreme end of the Bahamas archipelago means it is the southernmost place one
can erect a “trigonometrical station”—an apparatus that sends and receives radio signals for
communication and to triangulate position via LORAN in an era before satellite platform GPS.
Thus it seems likely that Big Sand Cay’s antenna complex was a U.S. military installation
established to promote navigation and communication with commercial and military shipping.
I recognize that modern activity has little to do with the indigenous settlement patterns.
Still, my objective was to identify all of the archaeological resources on the Turks Bank, and
historic ruins fall under that umbrella. It is unlikely that anyone will scientifically re-survey
these islands, so I have a responsibility to colleagues from all disciplines to report everything
since it might be relevant to someone else’s research. Moreover, I will disseminate this
dissertation to various constituencies in the Turks & Caicos Islands, including the Department of
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Environmental and Coastal Resources and the Turks & Caicos National Museum. They are
concerned with many matters beyond archaeology, and might find this additional content useful.
The role of Big Sand Cay
Big Sand Cay is probably too remote to have played much of a role in the prehistoric
settlement patterns of the Turks & Caicos Islands. Any attempt at settlement would also have
been confounded by the island’s extreme aridity. Still, it seems unlikely that indigenous peoples
would have eschewed Big Sand Cay entirely. Its position at the extreme southern end of the
Bahama archipelago means it is the first land mass one would encounter on a northward voyage
to the Turks Islands from Hispaniola. As such, it could have provided mariners a break from
paddling and a welcome chance to stretch one’s legs after a few days cooped up in a canoe on
the open North Atlantic, particularly if the voyage was a rough one. Moreover, the seasonally
available bird resources would have been attractive. Yet given Big Sand Cay’s remote location
and the comparative abundance of resources on the Turks Bank, it is difficult to envision people
from the islands to the north regularly voyaging there to collect a few bird eggs. Very likely, Big
Sand Cay was as ignored in prehistory as it is today.
The Survey of Pinzon Cay
Pinzon Cay used to be known as East Cay, and still is on some nautical charts of the area.
In the 1980s the Turks & Caicos Government officially changed the island’s name to honor
Martin Alonzo Pinzon, owner and Captain of the Pinta. The change occurred in advance of
celebrations to honor the 1992 quincentennial of Columbus’ first landing in the Americas.
Grand Turk has always argued that this historic event occurred on its shores, and a monument in
front of the post office in Cockburn Town commemorates the occasion.
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Pinzon Cay is the most easterly island on the Turks Bank and, by extension, represents
the eastern limit of the Bahama archipelago. The nearest eastward land is some 6,800 km away,
near the city of Nouadhibou, Mauritania. Grand Turk is closer, and lay 8.8 km to the northwest.
The nearest island is Pear Cay, 1.2 km to the north. Pinzon Cay is 1.4 km long and shaped
somewhat like an ice cream cone (Figure 3-15). It is widest in the north at 700 meters, and
tapers as one moves south, to only 150 meters. It encompasses a total land area of 45.78 hectares
(Department of Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b).
The windward side of Pinzon Cay is the same barren, scoured rock we regularly
encountered on these islands. The windward shore is somewhat less elevated than on other
islands, which affords the interior less protection from surging waves—they can wash right up
instead of pounding into the cliffs first. Consequently, we encountered tidal walling similar to
that of Long Cay but at a far greater scale. Whereas the rocks that formed the Long Cay wall
were usually about the size of a microwave, the rocks washed inland on Pinzon Cay were as big
as washing machines and occasionally as large as cars (Figure 3-16). This wall was larger,
longer, wider, and higher than any other we encountered on the Turks Bank, suggesting that
Pinzon Cay is relentlessly hammered in rough weather.
The northern third of the island is flat and sandy and relatively featureless, but a
substantial ridge approximately 20 meters in elevation bisects the southern two-thirds along a
northeast-to-southwest trajectory (Figure 3-17). This ridge creates a wind and wave shadow on
Pinzon Cay’s northwestern side. It seems that the ridge is substantial enough to protect this part
of the island since it is free of the storm-washed flotsam that adorns the windward shore and runs
well up the windward side of the ridge. This protection has permitted an expansive beach to
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form in the ridge’s lee (Figure 3-18). There is also a series of dunes immediately adjacent to the
beach, some of which rise several meters above the waterline.
Pinzon Cay is part of the Grand Turks Cays Land & Sea National Park, but enjoys no
other special designation. The island is extremely arid and windblown, and rarely does one
encounter any plant higher than one’s knees. The vegetation is similar to that of Big Sand Cay,
and is dominated by scrubby shrubs, stunted grasses, salt-resistant succulents, and cactus.
Notably, the Turks Head cactus is found on the island in great abundance. This plant is a revered
national symbol of the Turks & Caicos and the namesake of the Turks Islands themselves (the
first Europeans thought the red bulb on top of the cactus resembled a Turkish fez, and the name
stuck). Pinzon Cay is the only island upon which we encountered this cactus, which seems to
have adapted to the windy conditions by consistently growing at an angle away from the wind,
toward the lee of the island (Figure 3-19). Animal life is scarce. We encountered a few small
lizards, but no iguanas or other permanent terrestrial life. There were some Laughing Gulls
(Larus atricilla) nesting on the island at the time, and they had the same cantankerous disposition
as the Brown Noddies and the Sooty Terns. Thankfully, there were not nearly as many of them
and they were fairly easy to avoid. In contrast, the marine resources around Pinzon Cay are
abundant and would have been attractive to prehistoric peoples. The island is quite large and
creates a sizeable lee that harbors numerous reefs. The lee shore of the island south of the beach
is also quite rocky, and we observed many West Indian topsnails and more than a few big Blue
Parrotfish in this area.
We surveyed Pinzon Cay on June 15, 2004. It was a relatively calm day, but Pinzon Cay
is about 16 km by boat from where we were staying and it took more than hour to reach the
island. The nice beach on the island’s northwestern shore made it easy to approach and
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disembark. The entire field school participated in the survey, and upon arrival I divided us into
three survey teams. We proceeded south, went up and over the ridge, and surveyed the southern
part of the island before turning around and moving up the windward shore to the northern side.
As on Big Sand Cay, it was easy to stay in visual contact given the island’s lack of high
vegetation.
Survey results
PC-AA01. This activity area is situated northeast of our landing point on the northern
shore of the island. We identified two punched conch in a flat, sandy area about 30 meters
inland from the beach and immediately behind the dunes. A thorough surface reconnaissance of
the area did not yield any additional evidence in the immediate vicinity. There were no changes
in vegetation or soil appearance, and no other cultural items or fire-cracked rock was observed.
If there was additional evidence, it could have been deeply buried by the wind-blown sand, and
may have even been under the surrounding 4 meter high dunes.
Approximately 80 meters east of PC-AA01, we observed what could have been a ground
limestone pestle on the surface about 30 meters from the beach (Figure 3-20). This item was
approximately 25 centimeters long with a uniformly smooth surface, and had a pronounced
flattened bottom as if it was worn down from use as a grinding or crushing implement. Still, it
could be natural. We encountered many smooth, wave-tossed limestone rocks along the
windward shore, frequently aggregated in large deposits behind a protective rock outcropping or
boulder (Figure 3-21). This item was situated far away from that environment and well within
the protection of the ridge, on a flat sandy terrain well back from the sandy beach and its calm
waters. The fact that it was near an activity area and so far removed from the context in which it
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would occur naturally suggests some human agency at work. Yet it is difficult to say with
absolute certainty that indigenous people either made or used this item.
Historic activity. Pinzon Cay was occupied historically, but under mysterious
circumstances. As we moved south from the landing area, my subgroup was surveying the
leeward shore. As we crested the ridge we stumbled onto what appeared to be the ruins of some
kind of U.S. military outpost. It was situated near the top of the ridge, but slightly on the
windward side to provide an unobscured view of the waters to the east and south. There was a
variety of interesting features that looked like structure foundations. A rectangular, stacked rock
feature at the top of the ridge was the only fully-enclosed foundation (Figure 3-22). Since it was
also downwind from the rest of the camp, it may have been a latrine. Approximately about 20
meters southwest, slightly down the ridge, there were 16 stacked stone footers arranged in 2
parallel rows of 8. There was a 3 meter space between each footer and a 5 meter space between
the rows. Most were mortared to ensure stability, suggesting that they supported a large,
possibly wood or wood-framed structure (Figure 3-23). Yet there were no boards or lumber
scraps. These would have survived in the arid environment of Pinzon Cay, so either they were
removed from the island or the structures were of an impermanent nature, like tents. To the
south of the footers, a little more down the ridge, were a series of long, low rock walls arranged
in odd triangular and rectangular shapes (Figure 3-24). There were also the rusting remains of
abandoned equipment (Figure 3-25) and three large, black, apparently inflatable bladders (Figure
3-26) that looked like giant neoprene balloons. We even found a license plate that said “U.S.
Government” (Figure 3-27)—an illuminating discovery that led me to file the Freedom of
Information Act request with the Department of Defense.
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When I got home I filed the FOIA request online and included photos of the site and the
license plate. One of the places it landed was the desk of Dr. John R. Schindler, Command
Historian for the Naval Security Group Command at Fort Meade, Maryland. In his reply letter
(Appendix B) Dr. Schindler reported that he could find no information about the outpost from
the Naval Security Group or the Office of Naval Intelligence. But he added “What you
encountered sounds like a onetime U.S. Government—and probably U.S. Navy—activity, but I
can find no records of it” (John Schindler, personal communication 2004). I find this interesting,
because Pinzon Cay is never mentioned in the comprehensive ream of documents the other Navy
departments sent me, either. It is almost as if the infrastructure there never existed, at least from
the government’s “official” point of view. Conspiracy theories aside, it would be interesting to
know what our military was up to in such a remote and desolate place. I surmise that Pinzon
Cay’s position at the end of the Bahama archipelago—and its proximity to the shipping lanes
between Cuba and the North Atlantic—may have had something to do with it.
The role of Pinzon Cay
Of all the small cays on the Turks Bank, Pinzon Cay is most amenable to indigenous
settlement. The long, sheltered beach on the island’s northwest side is, theoretically speaking,
exactly the type of environment the Lucayans preferred to settle. However, the evidence
suggests that any occupation of Pinzon Cay was fleeting and transitory. This is likely due to the
island’s aridity and its relative isolation from larger islands that would have been more likely to
harbor sources of fresh water, even if only seasonally.
As with the other small cays on the eastern Turks Bank, marine resources would have
been the primary draw. I find it quite likely that Pinzon Cay would have been visited on
occasion by small groups of indigenous peoples intending to exploit the island’s rocky coastline
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and adjacent reefs. Unfortunately, there is no ceramic evidence to determine who these
prehistoric peoples were, or when they might have visited.
The Survey of Pear Cay
Pear Cay lay 1.4 km north of Pinzon Cay and 7.5 km southeast of Grand Turk. The
island is shaped like a crescent with the concave side facing east (Figure 3-28). It is
approximately 550 meters long and ranges in width from 75 meters in the north to 250 meters in
the south. It covers an area of 11.27 hectares (Department of Economic Planning and Statistics
2008b). Like Pinzon Cay, Pear Cay is elevated. It is low and flat in the north, but one walks
steadily uphill as one moves south. The southeastern portion of the island reaches perhaps 25
meters elevation before tumbling off steeply into the ocean. As expected, the island’s windward
shore is barren exposed rock, utterly devoid of life.
Pear Cay has no beaches whatsoever. The island is extremely dry and its vegetation is
even sparser than that of Pinzon Cay (Figure 3-29). We did not encounter any terrestrial
animals, and even the birds seemed to stay away. In light of our experiences on the other
islands, I found that remarkable. It is possible that some feral animals that escaped our notice
live on the island, or had sometime in the recent past. The marine environment also seems less
productive, as we did not encounter the topsnails and parrotfish we had frequently seen
elsewhere. There are a number of patchy reefs in the island’s limited lee, however.
We surveyed Pear Cay immediately after we left Pinzon Cay on June 15, 2004. Since
there are no beaches on Pear Cay, getting onto the island was difficult. The shore of Pear Cay is
steep and rocky, like a 2 meter cliff in most places. Moreover, seas had picked up since we
arrived at Pinzon Cay that morning, and our boat driver could not approach too close to the rocks
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for fear of smashing the hull. He found a somewhat sheltered cove and got as close as he could,
but I still had to jump off the bow into the water and climb up the slimy rocks. Once I got up
they threw me a rope and I alternated pulling the boat to me and pushing it away from the rocks
with my legs as the ocean swells rolled by. Only three others got off to complete the survey with
me—we felt it was too dangerous to get everyone off and then back on. There were not a lot of
complaints from those who remained on board, about being left behind. They dropped anchor
and had lunch. The four of us who landed split into pairs and divided the island. I went along
the leeward coast while the other group examined the windward. We reunited at the south end of
the island and walked 4 wide at 10 to 20-meter intervals through the interior as we returned
northward to the boat.
Survey results
There is no evidence that Pear Cay was ever occupied in either prehistory or modern
times. We did not encounter any evidence of human activity other than the standard debris
washed up on the windward shore. Very likely this is due to Pear Cay’s imposing coastline—
there is simply no easy way to get onto the island. In the unlikely event that people ever did visit
there, the island’s lack of resources and parched aridity would have made any substantial
settlement impossible.
The role of Pear Cay
It is unlikely that Pear Cay played any significant role in the settlement strategies of
indigenous peoples, or anyone else for that matter. It is probable that the leeward reefs were
occasionally exploited, but given the island’s inaccessibility, it is doubtful that humans would
have chosen to land at Pear Cay unless there was some kind of sudden squall or other
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emergency. There are far better places to go on the Turks Bank. One need not rely on Pear Cay
for much of anything.
Conclusion
The survey indicates that the small, uninhabited cays we surveyed did not play a major
role in prehistoric settlement patterns. There is no evidence that indigenous peoples intensively
occupied any of these islands, although they may have visited occasionally to exploit the local
marine resources and seasonal bird populations. The islands’ aridity and remote locations are the
most likely reasons for the apparent lack of interest.
The survey of the Turks Bank did not yield any remarkable discoveries, but that was
never the primary objective. My goal was to verify the archaeological information that has
swirled around since the 1970s and determine if any previously unknown cultural resources were
present. In this regard the survey was a complete success. The data I obtained first-hand did, in
most cases, corroborate archaeologists’ informal thoughts about the Turks Bank. These results
complement the literature from the Grand Turk sites and the results of my excavations detailed in
Chapter 4 to create a more comprehensive understanding of indigenous peoples’ activities in this
area.
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Figure 3-1. Map of the Turks Bank.
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Figure 3-2. A typical windy and rough day on the Turks Bank, viewed from Gibbs Cay. Round
Cay is in the background with Long Cay behind it on the horizon.
Figure 3-3. Satellite image of Long Cay and the location of the Somewhere activity area. Image
created in Google Earth.
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Figure 3-4. Pete Sinelli with part of an airplane wing. Interesting flotsam litters Long Cay.
Figure 3-5. The field school students posing on a large tree, washed nearly to the apex of the
central ridge of Long Cay.
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Figure 3-6. The natural rock wall on the top of the ridge of Long Cay, presumably driven there
by the collective power of large waves.
Figure 3-7. Two Brown Noddies taking a break from harassing the anthropologists.
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Figure 3-8. A Brown Noddy “nest”.
Figure 3-9. The small island and protected shallow lagoon off the northeastern shore of Big
Sand Cay.
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Figure 3-10. The beautiful, expansive beach of the lee shore of Big Sand Cay.
Figure 3-11. South-facing view of Big Sand Cay from the northern end of the island, depicting
sparse vegetation and the leeward beach.
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Figure 3-12. Big Sand Cay’s legions of swarming Sooty Terns.
Figure 3-13. Surveying Big Sand Cay with our “bird sticks” at the ready.
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Figure 3-14. The foundation and base of the ruined radio antenna on the northern crest of Big
Sand Cay. The solar-powered navigational beacon is in the left foreground.
Figure 3-15. Satellite image of Pinzon Cay with location of PC-AA01. Image created in
Google Earth.
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Figure 3-16. The rock wall of Pinzon Cay’s windward shore. The posing student gives a sense
of scale.
Figure 3-17. Pinzon Cay’s protective ridge, viewed from the northern portion of Pinzon Cay.
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Figure 3-18. The protected north and beach of Pinzon Cay as viewed from apex of the ridge.
Figure 3-19. Some of the many Turks Head cacti of Pinzon Cay, listing away from the wind.
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Figure 3-20. Possible ground limestone pestle.
Figure 3-21. Assorted smooth rocks collecting behind a boulder on the southern, windward
shore of Pinzon Cay.
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Figure 3-22. The enclosed limestone rock foundation near the top of the ridge.
Figure 3-23. The stacked and mortared rock footers.
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Figure 3-24. South-facing view of the rock wall enclosures descending down the ridge. Three
of the mortared footers appear in the foreground.
Figure 3-25. The rusting remains of abandoned equipment. The long object in the right
foreground looked like an engine manifold and may have been part of a generator.
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Figure 3-26. Three of the four deflated bladders. Their purpose remains a mystery.
Figure 3-27. The “U.S Government” license plate from Pinzon Cay.
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Figure 3-28. Satellite image of Pear Cay. Image created in Google Earth.
Figure 3-29. North-facing view of Pear Cay’s landscape as seen from the southern ridge.
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CHAPTER 4
OUTPOSTS: THE TURKS BANK EXCAVATIONS
This chapter describes the excavations of Gibbs and Cotton cays. There is a “Data” and
“Results” section for each site. The Data section includes a physical description of the cay and
the site. This includes the basic details of the excavation: when it was conducted, how many
units were excavated, how the site is laid out, and so forth. The Results section begins with a full
accounting of each site’s material assemblage and concludes with specific interpretations based
on my analysis of the excavated materials and the local context in which they were recovered. I
conclude the chapter by discussing how the sites integrate into the overall archaeology of the
Turks Islands. These interpretations are amalgamated into a broader discussion of the early
Lucayans’ activity in the Turks & Caicos Islands in Chapter 7.
Gibbs Cay
Data
Physical description of Gibbs Cay
Gibbs Cay is situated 1.5 km due east of the mouth of South Creek on Grand Turk. It is
the northernmost remnant of the uplifted relic reef system that lines the eastern boundary of the
Turks Bank, which includes, as one moves southward, Penniston Cay, Long Cay, Pear Cay, and
Pinzon Cay. Gibbs Cay is shaped like a long, rough rectangle, with its long axis oriented on a
fairly close north-south bearing (Figure 4-1). The island is approximately 540 meters long and a
mostly consistent 90-100 meters wide, with a total area of 5.87 hectares (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). A gorgeous white-sand beach juts out of the island’s
southwestern side like a giant triangular tooth (Figure 4-2). The island is technically protected as
part of the Grand Turks Cays Land & Sea National Park, but as mentioned in Chapter 3, tourists
are still permitted to visit. Although most tourist activity focuses on the beach where the
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stingray encounters occur, visitors are free to roam the island. All of this activity probably has
had some impact on the island’s fauna. We did not encounter any terrestrial species, save a few
small lizards, and the nesting birds that plagued us on other cays in the area were not in evidence.
Vegetation is sparse compared to Grand Turk, but an attractive carpet of sea oats covers the
island. Cactus is also common, particularly at higher elevations where runoff and evaporation
rates are greatest. Overall, Gibbs Cay offers a more pleasant and bucolic scene than the scoured
moonscapes of islands like Pear Cay.
Gibbs Cay is unique among the small Turks Islands we visited in that most of it is quite
elevated. The south end of the island is the flattest, but still sits 6-10 meters above the high
water mark. As one moves north, the landscape rises rapidly to an elevation of as much as 50
meters. The island is highest in the center, but maintains significant elevation all the way to its
northern tip (Figure 4-3). This topography has two notable effects. First, the lee shore of the
island is protected like no other Turks Bank cay we visited. This fact enabled the beach area to
weather storms and protected the site and its materials from the overwashing that likely
destroyed some of the other cays’ evidence of indigenous occupation. Second, the island’s bulk
protects the lee water, so that the seas between Gibbs Cay and Grand Turk are among the calmest
in the area. This protection allows massive mangrove forests to flourish in and around Grand
Turk’s South Creek, which lay directly west of Gibbs in its wind and wave shadow (Figure 4-4).
The protected beach and calm waters, combined with Gibbs Cay’s convenient location only 1.5
km from Grand Turk, made it far more amenable to indigenous settlement than the more remote
cays to its south. Interestingly, Gibbs Cay’s high interior also attracted attention in historic
times. The French military established a gun emplacement at the island’s apex during their brief
occupation of Grand Turk in the early 1780s. The emplacement, known on period maps as “Fort
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Castries,” may have helped repel a British naval assault to retake the island and dealt a young
Horatio Nelson one of the few defeats of his illustrious career (Sinelli 2004).
Description of the Gibbs Cay site
The site is immediately adjacent to the beach, on the island proper near the center of the
base of the “tooth” (Figure 4-5). The beach itself is very flat and averages about 50 cm above
the high water mark. The island proper slopes precipitously upward from the flat beach, rising to
an elevation of 3.5 meters over a linear distance of only 10 meters (Figure 4-6). From that point,
the interior of this part of Gibbs Cay rises more gradually to a maximum elevation of about 6
meters at its center, which is about 40 meters inland from the beach. Moving east from there, the
island is relatively flat until one reaches the windward shore, where it again drops off
dramatically to the sterile beach rock of the windward shore. Just north of the site the island
rises to its maximum elevation. The top of Gibbs Cay offers a commanding view of the
surrounding bank, which is obviously why the French made the considerable effort to place
cannons there.
Part of the deposit is eroding out of the site towards the beach in the steep area where the
island rises rapidly to an elevation of 3.5 meters (Figure 4-7). The rest of the deposit seems to be
intact, with the soils kept in place by a dense cover of hardy sea oats. Yet given that the site is
immediately adjacent to the beach where tourists congregate daily, it is certainly exposed to foot
traffic if not outright scavenging. The site is no secret—the tour operators tell people it is there
as part of their introduction to the island (Mitch Rollings, personal communication 2004). Thus
it is quite likely that artifacts have been removed over the years by curious collectors. This fact
must be factored into any analysis of the site.
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Excavation details
We began our work at Gibbs Cay by conducting a thorough surface reconnaissance of the
site and surrounding areas. Most of the other sites we encountered in the Turks & Caicos had an
abundant surface scatter of ceramics, shells, shell tools, fire-cracked rock, and other hallmarks of
occupation. Except for the fire-cracked rock, these materials were noticeably absent at Gibbs
Cay. The only cultural material we saw on the surface was that which had eroded out of the
deposit in the sloping area immediately adjacent to the beach. Interestingly, we detected no
ceramics in this area, but did encounter broken shell, some broken expedient shell tools, fire-
cracked rock, and subtly darker soils. Again, it is probable that tourists picked the surface clean
of any “interesting” things like ceramics, tools, and intact punched conch. Fortunately, we did
not observe any looter holes or other evidence of concerted, nefarious efforts to raid the site.
Given the dearth of surface material it was difficult to quickly gauge the site’s precise
dimensions. However, the site’s position in a sheltered area of the island meant that wind-blown
sand was not much of an issue, and it was possible to identify its perimeter by examining
changes in soil structure and color. We began at the eroding deposit and fanned out across the
gentle upward slope. When we observed a change in soil structure we stopped and marked the
location of the change with a washed up plastic bottle (which were in great supply on the
windward shore, as usual). In short order we had identified the site boundaries, and determined
that it was roughly rectangular, with a 35 meter north-south axis and a 20 meter east-west axis.
A further 10 meters of width was present along the site’s southwestern side, but that is the part
that is eroding down the slope, and is not habitation area per se.
Due to our unanticipated opportunity to assist with the Tourist Board project, we were
not able to excavate Gibbs Cay as intensively as I had planned. I initially intended to dedicate
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four days to excavations, but the South Creek National Park survey took an entire day, and the
Gibbs Cay historic-era gun emplacement excavations diverted half the team for another full day.
Consequently, we excavated the Gibbs Cay site on only three calendar days between June 5 and
June 9, 2004. The entire team spent two full days working the site and half the team spent
another day, for a total of 28 person-days of excavation time.
Five one-meter-square units, designated “A” through “E”, and four 50 x 50-centimeter
test units, designated 1 through 4, were completed (Figure 4-8). Units A and B were opened
first. Both units were arbitrarily situated in areas with denser than average surface scatter. Unit
A was located several meters back from the steep slope by the beach, and near the site’s southern
perimeter. Unit B was situated directly at the top of the steep slope immediately adjacent to a
scatter of material that had eroded out of the deposit and down the hill. Unit A was productive,
so I opened Unit C directly east of it to essentially create a 1x2. Unit D was then located one
meter due north of Unit C. Together, these three units provided a good sample of activities at the
southern end of the Gibbs Cay site. To sample the northern end, we laid a transect on a magnetic
north-south axis directly from the southwest corner of Unit A to the northern boundary of the
site. The four 50 x 50 units began 10 meters north of the southwest corner of Unit A and were
spaced every three meters. Based on the data extracted from these test units, Unit E was opened
between Test Units 1 and 2.
All units were excavated by trowel and brush to either bedrock or sterile soil. All matrix
was screened through ¼ inch hardware cloth mesh. The excavations yielded a total of 29 field
specimen (FS) proveniences. Each FS provenience for Units A through E corresponds to a 10
centimeter stratigraphic level. This practice is common in the Turks & Caicos given the
generally shallow nature of the deposits and the frequent lack of natural stratigraphy. All units A
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through E yielded 5 FS proveniences apiece, which translates to an average depth of deposit
between 40 and 50 centimeters. The four 50 x 50 test units were each given a single FS
provenience.
Because the entire Gibbs Cay site slopes toward the beach, none of the excavation units
was on “flat” ground. Consequently, some of the material recovered in lower levels was actually
at or very near the surface. This required me to carefully monitor each provenience to maintain
stratigraphic integrity. The exact location of items recovered, vis-à-vis the surface, will be
described below as necessary.
Results
The ceramic assemblage
Overview. As mentioned above, tourists have likely impacted the site’s assemblage, and
the absence of any ceramics visible on the surface would seem to support this hypothesis. Yet
even underground, the Gibbs Cay site is not rich in pottery. We screened nearly 3 cubic meters
of matrix from the site and recovered only 18 sherds weighing a combined 148 grams (Table 4-
1). Imported ceramics dominated the assemblage both in number (Figure 4-9) and by weight
(Figure 4-10). Sixteen of the 18 sherds (88.9%), accounting for 95.3% of the total weight of the
site’s ceramic assemblage, were from imported vessels. Of these, 14 were undecorated body
sherds and two were undecorated rim sherds. Two Palmetto ware sherds weighing a combined 7
grams were also identified.
For Gibbs Cay, the analysis of the vertical and horizontal distributions of the ceramic
assemblage is limited to sherd count only and is not broken down by weight. Because the
sample size is too small, and is biased by a large sherd that alone accounts for 51 of the 148
grams of ceramics, an analysis of distribution by weight would be meaningless.
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Vertical distribution. Units A-D were situated on the southern half of the site. Of
these, Units A and C yielded the most ceramic material (Figure 4-11), accounting for 11 of the
18 sherds recovered at the site. Only one sherd was recovered from Unit B, and none from Unit
D even though it lay a mere 1 meter from the more productive Units A and C. All of the sherds
from the southern part of the site were from imported vessels. However, none was decorated. A
rim sherd from Unit A exhibited an inturned shoulder and a flat rim top, but no other decorative
motif. The most interesting components of these units’ ceramic assemblage were two imported
sherds with a unusual temper of crushed shell mixed with minerals. These sherds do not cross-
mend but are almost certainly from the same vessel.
Unit E and Test Units 1-4 were located on the northern half of the site. There was a
pronounced difference between Test Units 3 and 4 on the south end of the transect and Test
Units 1 and 2 on the north end. The southerly Test Units 3 and 4 were characterized by light,
sandy soil with no rocks. In contrast, Test Units 1 and 2 had dark, extremely rocky soils. From
this, I inferred that Test Units 3 and 4 may have been located on an area which had been
intentionally picked and swept clean, possibly as the floor of a house or shelter of some sort,
while Test Units 1 and 2 were potentially situated on an associated kitchen midden. Unit E was
placed midway between Test Units 1 and 2 to further explore this feature. Overall, only six
sherds were recovered from the 4 test units and Unit E. Test Unit 3 yielded the only other rim
sherd at the site, which, like the specimen from Unit A, exhibited an inturned shoulder and flat
rim top. The two Palmetto ware sherds found at Gibbs Cay were recovered from Unit E.
Horizontal distribution. At first glance, the fact that Units A-E all terminated at Level 5
suggests that the Gibbs Cay deposits are fairly deep. In reality the deposit is shallow, and all
units terminated at sterile soil somewhere between 35 and 41 cm below the surface (Table 4-2).
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This is due to the slope of the site. Level 1 never covered the entire surface of any unit. In some
cases, the surface in a downhill corner was not touched until other parts of the unit were well into
Level 3. The horizontal profile of Gibbs Cay must be viewed in this context.
Level 4 was the most productive horizontal layer of the site, with 7 of 18 sherds (Figure
4-12). Levels 3 and 5 were tied for second with 4 of 18 apiece. The remaining 2 sherds were
recovered from Level 2, and none was present in Level 1. Imported ceramics were recovered in
each Level from 2 through 5. The two Palmetto ware sherds were recovered in Levels 3 and 4 of
Unit E. The slope was particularly acute in Unit E, and I noted in my journal that “we’re getting
surface [junk] like bits of metal in L3”. In actuality, the Palmetto sherds were recovered at or
within 10 cm of the surface.
Analysis. Compared to the other sites we excavated, the Gibbs Cay ceramic assemblage
is small and unremarkable. Imported ceramics dominate the assemblage. However, the lack of
any diagnostic decorative motifs makes it difficult to classify these as either Meillacan or
Chican, and microscopic paste analyses of the material were not attempted. The two rim sherds
are equally uninformative: they bear no decoration and exhibit the inturned shoulders and flat
rim tops which are common to vessels manufactured in both the Meillacan and Chican traditions
(Rouse 1939,1941; Rainey 1941). However, the ratio of imported sherds to Palmetto ware
ceramics provides some useful insight. As discussed in Chapter 1, Chican ceramics are
contemporaneous with Palmetto ware, and these two styles are frequently recovered in the same
context. Meillacan ceramics are earlier and are not commonly found in association with
Palmetto ware in the Turks & Caicos. Because the Gibbs Cay assemblage has little Palmetto
ware, it is reasonable to hypothesize that the site was most intensively occupied prior to the
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widespread distribution of these locally-manufactured ceramics, which suggests that the
imported ceramics are Meillacan, not Chican.
Still, the presence of any Palmetto ware at all is somewhat anomalous for a site so close
to Grand Turk. In general, Palmetto ware is quite rare on that island (Keegan 2007:85). So why
is Palmetto ware present at all in the Gibbs Cay deposits? There are two possible explanations.
First, Gibbs Cay could be a multi-component site with both a Palmetto ware and a
Meillacan assemblage. Because Palmetto ware was manufactured later in regional prehistory,
these ceramics are usually found at or near the surface at multi-component sites, with the earlier
Meillacan-era deposits underneath. When tourist activity at Gibbs Cay is factored into the
equation, it is possible that there was once much Palmetto ware on the surface, that much of this
was collected, and that these two sherds are all that remain of a much larger Palmetto ware
footprint.
The second scenario is that the two small Palmetto ware sherds were the result of an
isolated “pot drop” sometime after the site’s primary period of occupation. Many “sites” in the
Turks & Caicos are little more than a few isolated Palmetto sherds. Middle Caicos alone has
dozens of such “sites” (Sullivan 1981), and it is now widely understood that “Palmetto ware can
occur independent of areas that were occupied as villages” (Keegan et al 1990:8). Given the
absence of any other Palmetto ware in the shallow layers of the deposit, this alternative makes
the most sense. If there were a substantial Palmetto ware-era occupation of the site, one would
expect to find something more, because even souvenir-hunters are not that thorough. Very likely
the Palmetto ware at Gibbs Cay reflects small-scale use of the island well after the formal
occupation was abandoned. As discussed in chapter 1, this pot drop could reflect something as
simple as a group of fishermen breaking for lunch.
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In sum, the ceramic assemblage suggests that the Gibbs Cay site is a Meillacan-era
occupation. If so, the Gibbs Cay site would be culturally and/or temporally linked to other
Meillacan sites in the region, such as Governor’s Beach or GT-4 on Grand Turk, or perhaps
those in the Caicos Islands. Even though the assemblage is small, and the limited sample makes
it difficult to statistically prove this scenario, this explanation best fits the available evidence.
The faunal assemblage
Vertebrates. The assemblage is quite large for such a small site: we recovered a bag of
vertebrate faunal material from every one of the 29 FS proveniences cataloged at Gibbs Cay.
Moreover, my field journal is replete with pithy observations like “Lots of bone in Unit A, Level
3”, “Fish bones aplenty in Level 4 , Units A and B”, and “Very seriously large fish bones in Unit
D, Levels 2 and 3 horizon”. However, a detailed analysis of the vertebrate faunal assemblage at
Gibbs Cay was not completed.
Invertebrates. The invertebrate faunal record was analyzed and much can be
ascertained from these materials. The assemblage consists of 14 taxa and includes 10 types of
mollusks, 3 corals, and the ubiquitous West Indian Fuzzy Chiton (Table 4-3). The most common
invertebrate at Gibbs Cay was the West Indian Topsnail (Cittarium pica), which thrives along
the rocky intertidal shorelines of Gibbs and the other Turks Bank cays. With an MNI of 126, the
topsnail outnumbered conch (Strombus gigas) by a ratio of 5 to 1. In fact, conch was noticeably
infrequent in the deposit (MNI=28), perhaps because this species finds the deeper, rougher water
of the Turks Bank less salubrious than the calmer shallows of the Caicos Bank, where they are
more abundant. Interestingly, the size of the conchs we recovered skews toward smaller
individuals. Of the 22 shells we measured, 20 were juveniles and/or young adults less than 20
cm in length (Table 4-3). These smaller shells may have been brought to the site to be formed
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into shell tools (see Jones O’Day and Keegan 2001). Cracked and broken conch, which are as
common as sunshine at most Caicos Bank sites, are virtually nonexistent at Gibbs Cay—we
recovered a scant 0.2 liters among nearly 3,000 liters of screened matrix. Three expedient conch
shell tools are among the 28 MNI. Two were small picks, and the third a medium hammer.
None of the other marine invertebrates listed in Table 4-3 was abundant. Four
periwinkles and two nerites were identified, and the rest of the mollusks were represented by a
single specimen. Three species of coral were identified in small quantities. None of these
showed clear evidence of abrasion or other use wear.
Analysis. The volume and widespread distribution of fish bones suggests that the
residents engaged in a concerted effort to exploit this abundant resource. It is widely thought
that people from Hispaniola visited the Turks & Caicos to engage in craft production and catch
and cure fish for export during the seasons when they would not have otherwise been engaged in
activities at home (Keegan 2007:88, Keegan et al. 1994:22). Very likely, Gibbs Cay fits into that
paradigm, along with the Governor’s Beach site on nearby Grand Turk. Testing this hypothesis
will require a thorough analysis of the vertebrate fauna to determine which species were being
taken and how these were captured and processed. An analysis of the many otoliths we
recovered at Gibbs Cay might also shed light on the seasonal timing of these activities.
The ratio of fish and topsnail to conch reveals a great deal about the diet and economy at
the site. Topsnail mollusks are an abundant and simple food option on Gibbs Cay. This
gastropod is easily collected by walking along the shoreline at low tide—one does not even need
a boat. As such, it is unsurprising that this species constituted a substantial portion of the
invertebrate faunal assemblage. The dearth of conch at the site is another matter. One’s first
impulse would be to blame this anomaly on souvenir-hungry tourists picking the surface clean of
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“Indian” artifacts. While they almost certainly are responsible for skewing the sample at some
level, I do not believe it is appropriate to lay the matter entirely at the tourists’ feet. Conch was
rare in the subsurface deposits as well. There are two alternative explanations for this fact. First,
conch shells may never have been brought to the site in great numbers, reflecting collection
techniques in which the animal was extracted shortly after capture and its shell discarded
elsewhere. Jones O’Day and Keegan argue that the only shells brought to a site were those the
Indians used to line fire pits or intended to manufacture into shell tools (2001:281-282). We did
find several expedient Strombus shell tools among the 25 individuals we recovered, which seems
to support this idea. However, we did not encounter any large conch piles anywhere on Gibbs
Cay, or for that matter, on any of the other small cays we visited on the Turks Bank. If they were
processing conch and piling discarded shells somewhere other than at the site, then we have yet
to identify the location of that activity. Second, it is possible that conch was simply not as
important as other foodstuffs, like fishes and topsnails. Even without a detailed analysis of the
vertebrate faunal record, it is clear that fishes played a major role in the diet and economy of
Gibbs Cay. In this regard, Gibbs Cay again looks similar to the Governor’s Beach site, where
fish, particularly grunts (Haemulon sp.), dominate the faunal assemblage and conch is virtually
absent (Carlson 1999:146; Keegan et al. 1994:44). This may reflect an effort to minimize the
amount of time spent on food procurement in order to focus on the primary task: bead
production. “Laying traps in a shallow reef or netting in the sandy shallows may have been the
easiest way to meet basic subsistence needs while performing the primary task here” (Carlson
1999:146). Because these fish are a bountiful and largely effortless catch (they trap themselves,
after all), the need to forage for more difficult to collect foodstuffs like conch is diminished.
Moreover, it is possible that conch may also have been a less socially acceptable food item
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(Keegan 2007:90), particularly when fresh fish was always available in abundance. Absent a
more complete understanding of the Gibbs Cay vertebrate faunal record, it is not unreasonable to
argue that similar activities were taking place at Gibbs Cay.
In a different vein, the distribution of the invertebrate faunal assemblage offers clear
insight into how the site was laid out. The largest concentration of topsnail was found in a single
subterranean midden in the northern part of the site. Together, Test Units 1, 2, and 3 at the
northern end of the transect and Unit E between Test Units 1 and 2 contained 89 of the 126
specimens we recovered. Interestingly, the southernmost Test Unit 4 did not contain a single
specimen. Recall that the soils in Test Units 3 and 4 were light colored and rock-free, suggesting
that the area had been swept clean and maintained thereafter. This was interpreted to be a
possible structure floor. However, Test Unit 3 yielded a large number of topsnails below the
surface. This seemed incongruous until I considered that Gibbs Cay was probably occupied only
sporadically. Perhaps the structure whose floor I observed was rebuilt after a period of vacancy.
At that time it was either expanded in size or relocated a few meters to the north to encompass
the area around Test Unit 3 sometime after the topsnail in that unit had been deposited. From
that point on additional material would have continued to accumulate in a midden north of the
structure, in the dark-soiled, rocky area where Unit E and Test Units 1 and 2 were situated, while
the area around Test Units 3 and 4 was kept clean. Alternatively, the light colored, rock-free
soil in this area may have been intentionally relocated from the beach area in an effort to level
the natural slope of the site. If so, then it logically follows that the residents would not have
relocated the topsnail shells situated around Test Unit 3 as part of this effort, instead choosing to
leave them there as part of the fill. That the site now slopes considerably toward the beach may
be due to erosion of this infill over the intervening centuries. In any event, the nature of the
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matrix and the lack of material in Test Unit 4 suggests that this part of the site was regularly
maintained and that garbage was never deposited there. This adds credence to the hypothesis
that a structure was once located on this part of the site.
Other cultural material
Gibbs Cay fits the standard profile where individuals were manufacturing beads as part of
the overall strategy of resource exploitation for export. Six unfinished round bead blanks and
one completed Olivella bead were identified (Figure 4-13). Of the round blanks, three were
manufactured from the fire-red shell of the Chama sarda mollusk. Two of the blanks appear to
be manufactured from conch shell, and the final blank from a brown and white banded shell of
unknown identity (Figure 4-13, upper right).
Radiocarbon chronology
Two radiocarbon dates were obtained from Gibbs Cay. The first was obtained from a
Strombus gigas shell recovered from Unit A, Level 3, which was positioned approximately 25
cm below the surface. The shell had been fashioned into a small pick that weighed 45 grams. I
intentionally selected a tool to ensure that there was a definite cultural affinity and the shell had
not found its way into the deposit via any natural process. It was dated using the standard
radiocarbon method and assigned designation Beta 242676. Although the date was calibrated
and adjusted for local reservoir correction, it yielded a figure outside of the range I expected.
The intercept of the radiocarbon age with the calibration curve occurred at Cal AD 1620, with a
two-sigma range of Cal AD 1490 to 1680 (Appendix C). Given the outlying nature of these
results, I subsequently submitted a charcoal sample obtained from Unit A, Level 4. It was
analyzed via AMS and assigned designation Beta 253527. This date was in line with
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expectations: the intercept occurred at Cal AD 1260 with a two-sigma range of Cal AD 1170 to
1280 (Appendix C).
The radiocarbon date on charcoal demonstrates that Gibbs Cay was occupied during the
Meillacan phase, and was contemporaneous with a number of sites in the Turks & Caicos. Most
significantly, it clearly coincides with the occupation of the Governor’s Beach site on nearby
Grand Turk. Five radiocarbon dates were obtained from Governor’s Beach (Table 4-4). Four of
these cluster between AD 1215 and AD 1307, and the Gibbs Cay date of AD 1260 falls squarely
in the middle of this range. In the Caicos Islands, this date overlaps with those I obtained from
Middleton Cay and Spud, as well as dates others obtained from MC-12, MC-32, and MC-36 on
Middle Caicos, P-1 on Providenciales, and PC-1 on Pine Cay (Carlson 1999:144).
The Gibbs Cay radiocarbon results are significant for three reasons. First, they
corroborate the testimony of Gibbs Cay’s ceramic and faunal records that the site may have been
linked to Governor’s Beach and is contemporaneous with numerous villages in the Caicos
Islands. Second, it offers additional evidence that making beads for export was, for a very long
time, one of the primary economic activities in the southern Bahama archipelago. Third,
obtaining a date of AD 1260 from yet another site dominated by imported Meillacan ceramics is
further proof that Hispaniolans were still actively producing vessels in this tradition well into the
13th century, and that Palmetto ware had not yet “replaced” imported ceramics in the southern
Bahamas by that time.
The Gibbs Cay radiocarbon results also suggest something extraordinary. The Cal AD
1620 date obtained from the expedient conch shell tool indicates that indigenous peoples may
have survived in the Turks & Caicos further beyond contact than is currently thought. Although
the two-sigma range begins at AD 1490, the date contributes to a growing body of radiocarbon
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evidence that the Bahama archipelago was not completely depopulated within 20 years of the
Spaniards’ arrival. This matter will be explored in greater detail in the final chapter of this
dissertation.
Interpretation of Gibbs Cay
Gibbs Cay falls into the “Outpost” category of small cay sites. The ceramic, faunal, and
radiocarbon data all place Gibbs Cay in the same context with the Governor’s Beach site and
perhaps GT-4 on Grand Turk, as well as numerous sites in the Caicos Islands. All of these sites
(or early horizons of sites) are marked by Meillacan ceramics and date to the 13th century AD.
Gibbs Cay provides additional evidence that during this time, Meillacan-producing groups from
northern Hispaniola were regularly exploiting the southern Bahamas for a variety of resources,
such as beads made from the Chama sarda mollusk, as well as foodstuffs like fish and conch.
Although there are clear similarities between Gibbs Cay and Governor’s Beach, the exact
relationship between the sites is difficult to determine with certainty. Several scenarios are
possible. First, the sites could have been occupied at the same time by two separate, but related
groups that both knew of and interacted with each other. The two sites lie approximately 2 km
apart, which fits nicely within Keegan’s concept of settlement pairs (1992:83-84). Yet the data
do not strongly support such a hypothesis. The two sites are small and impermanent, and as
such, would not have experienced the social and demographic pressures that Keegan has argued
can drive part of a site’s population to cleave off and form a new pair village. A second, and
more plausible scenario, is that Gibbs Cay and Governor’s beach were occupied around the same
time by the same group and/or related groups of people, but not simultaneously. In this case, the
group(s) might have bounced back and forth from week to week, month to month, or season to
season, as has been hypothesized for MC-8 and MC-10 on Middle Caicos (Sinelli 2001:121).
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Finally, it is conceivable that Gibbs Cay was occupied after Governor’s Beach after that Grand
Turk site had been forcibly abandoned. It has been argued that the demise of Governor’s Beach
was not voluntary:
[T]here is evidence for the sudden disruption of activities at the

site. A variety of valued objects were abandoned or destroyed,
including almost 400 shell beads (which were thrown into a fire),
several effigy vessels (including [a] porcupinefish vessel), and
exotic tools and other objects… The evidence suggests that a battle
[at Governor’s Beach] may have taken place, in which the
Meillacan peoples were forced to leave the island for good (Keegan
2007:90).
By virtue of its location and topography, Gibbs Cay is far more defensible than any other island
in the area. The apex of Gibbs Cay lies approximately 50 meters above sea level, and affords an
unobstructed, 360-degree view of the surrounding waters for tens of kilometers (the French
recognized this, which is why they put cannons there). Moreover, this peak is surrounded by a
slope so steep that the apex is only approachable from 3 sides. If the residents of Governor’s
Beach had been driven off, then Gibbs Cay would have been an excellent tactical place to
resettle. A lookout on top of the hill would have easily seen any approaching canoes long before
they reached the island. If the strangers drew near, the entire retinue would have had ample time
to collect their valuables and retreat to the top of the hill. Any attack would have not only lost
the element of surprise, but also faced the daunting challenge of attacking up a steep slope into
the teeth of a well-prepared defense. Unfortunately, there is no evidence to prove that this
scenario actually played out. Yet common sense dictates that people learn from a rout, and the
virtues of holding the “high ground” in times of conflict would not have been lost on the settlers.
Exploring the particulars of the “battle” at Governor’s Beach may also provide insight
into the relationship between Gibbs Cay and the many contemporaneous Meillacan sites in the
Caicos islands. If there were a battle, then who was involved? Carlson suggests that the
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antagonists may have been the Ostionan producing peoples who inhabited the Coralie site on the
other end of Grand Turk. The radiocarbon data from both sites indicate a period of overlap in
the late 12th and early 13th centuries (Carlson 1999:52,144). Moreover, a single Ostionan sherd
was recovered from the otherwise exclusively Meillac assemblage at Governor’s Beach,
suggesting that some interaction indeed took place (Carlson 1993). Alternatively, Keegan
suggests that the conquerors came from the west: “[W]hom did they fight? One possibility is
that the Lucayans who had been living in the Caicos Islands for about two centuries began to
exert their authority over all of these islands at this time” (Keegan 2007:90).
Several lines of evidence from Gibbs Cay help us evaluate these possibilities. It is clear
that Gibbs Cay and Governor’s Beach are related, based upon the temporal overlap, similarities
between the material assemblages, and the rather obvious fact that the sites are located so near
each other that the residents of one could not possibly have been ignorant of the existence of the
other. Therefore, it is reasonable to assume that Governor’s Beach and Gibbs Cay were
inhabited by the same group, even if it is difficult to establish the exact timing of the respective
occupations. If so, then where did these people live the rest of the time? There are two
possibilities. Either the Meillac producing peoples of Grand Turk and Gibbs Cay hailed from
Hispaniola, or they came from one or more of the many contemporary Meillacan sites in the
Caicos islands. Based on the evidence (some of which is admittedly circumstantial), I argue that
they hailed from Hispaniola.
Dates from Pelican Cay (AD 1050) demonstrate that Meillacan affiliated peoples had
been living in the Caicos islands two centuries before the establishment of Governor’s Beach and
Gibbs Cay. By the time the Grand Turk sites were founded, nearly a dozen Meillacan sites were
active, at least seasonally, around the Caicos Bank. Essentially, the Caicos Bank and all its
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bounty had been “claimed,” and it follows that the its residents would have resisted new groups
of immigrants, particularly if they hailed from a different area along the north coast of
Hispaniola. Yet the Turks Bank had always been less intensively occupied, and any group in the
13th century that wanted to enrich themselves via beadmaking and food-procuring activities
would have had a far easier time setting up shop on these islands east of the Columbus Passage.
These new migrants may have escaped the notice of their neighbors to the west for some time.
But eventual contact would have been inevitable, and it is possible that people from the
established sites in the Caicos Islands decided that no squatters, period, would inhabit the
southern Bahamas. Since the “Caicos Bankers” would have easily outnumbered the “Turks
Bankers,” driving people out of Governor’s Beach and/or Gibbs Cay would have been a fairly
simple task. How this transpired, and if there was some Lucayan version of Custer’s Last Stand
at Gibbs Cay, is best left to the imagination.
Reconstructing all of these possible scenarios is, for me, one of the most enjoyable
aspects of archaeology. It is an intriguing mental exercise, but unfortunately, one that rarely
yields unassailable conclusions. Still, it is clear that Gibbs Cay and Governor’s Beach were
related, and that suddenly, toward the end of the 13th century, the people who lived at these sites
disappeared and never returned. The only indication that any indigenous people exploited Grand
Turk or its environs after the late 13th century comes from the Cal AD 1620 date from Gibbs
Cay. Given the temporal disconnect, these people would clearly not have been affiliated with
Meillacan-producing peoples in Hispaniola. If indigenous peoples were using Gibbs Cay after
European contact, then they had nothing to do with the people who lived there more than 300
years earlier.
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Cotton Cay
Data
Physical description of Cotton Cay
Cotton Cay is situated 5.9 km south of Grand Turk and 2.6 km northeast of Salt Cay, and
is the largest currently uninhabited island in the Turks group. It is roughly football shaped, with
its long axis oriented on a west-southwest to east-northeast bearing. The island is 2.3 km long,
and between 200 and 800 meters wide, for a total land area of 112.52 hectares (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b).
The landscape of Cotton Cay is different from those of the other uninhabited Turks Bank
cays we visited. Topographically, the island is roughly bowl shaped. The “rim” of the bowl
consists of a ridge that abuts all of the eastern, northern, and western shorelines, and a good
portion of the southern shore. The ridge mostly rises abruptly from the sea, so that flat, sandy
beaches are narrow, infrequent, and unevenly distributed. Unsurprisingly, both of the Cotton
Cay sites are situated on parts of the ridge that are adjacent to the only beaches on the northern
coast (Figure 4-14). The ridge is highest at the eastern extremity of the island, but not so high as
to completely stop large crashing waves approaching from windward. In fact, Cotton Cay has
one of the most impressive natural rock walls of any island where we observed this phenomenon
(Figure 4-15). Although waterborne debris is common along the windward ridge, even at
elevations of 6 to 8 meters above sea level (Figure 4-16), there is no evidence that waves
penetrate very deeply from the east into the island’s interior. The interior of Cotton Cay is
relatively flat and dotted with intermittently-flooded salinas that presumably fill in occasionally
through gaps in the ridge along the southern shore (Figure 4-17). In this regard, the island looks
more like the salt-producing islands of Grand Turk and Salt Cay, although that industry was
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never established in this place during the European era. Cotton Cay, as its name implies, was a
farming island.
Cotton Cay was the only island east of the Caicos to be intensively farmed during the
Loyalist Period of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. These activities altered the landscape in
ways that remain apparent more than two centuries later. The western half of the island is replete
with plantation-era ruins. The partial walls of a house or structure lie roughly 50 meters from
Cotton Cay’s westernmost shore, and hundreds of meters of rock walls meander in various
directions across the area. Several walled enclosures are also visible (Figure 4-18), suggesting
that animals may have been raised in addition to the sea island cotton for which the island is
named.
Like all of the Turks Islands, Cotton Cay is quite dry. Nevertheless, sea grape, cactus,
and other xeric vegetation seem to do well, and much of the island is densely vegetated (Figure
4-17). In general these plants would seem to make Cotton Cay a favorable place for wildlife, but
we found very little fauna save some small Anolis lizards and a few water birds. It is possible
that some unseen feral creatures inhabit the island. It is also possible that the local biota never
recovered from plantation era activities, which would have dramatically altered the island’s
natural ecology.
Cotton Cay remains in the hands of the family that obtained the original land grant at the
end of the Revolutionary War. As private real estate, it is not under the umbrella of any of the
national parks or sanctuaries that protect most of the other cays on the Turks Bank. Even so, no
one has lived on the island for generations, and until very recently few people have ever bothered
to visit there. This changed when the Grand Turk Cruise Terminal opened in 2006. Now for
only $89, one can “Go sailing aboard a luxurious catamaran to the uninhabited island of Cotton
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Cay, [and] snorkel near an underwater coral reef paradise teeming with bright tropical marine
life”, via a Carnival Cruise Lines shore excursion (Carnival Cruise Lines 2009).
Previous archaeological research at Cotton Cay
Brian Riggs discovered the two sites on Cotton Cay while on one of his self-described
“bush rambles.” Shortly thereafter, Keegan returned to the island with a team of volunteers to
examine the sites more closely. The following description of his work provides an excellent
introduction to the archaeology of Cotton Cay:
Surface collections and test excavations at the Cotton Cay sites

were made on January 16, 1993. The easternmost site, CC-2, is on
a high bluff with the ocean to the north and a now-dry salina to the
south. The surface was littered with mollusk shells, pottery, and
fire-cracked limestone. Both Palmetto Ware and imported pottery
was recovered, as was a single melado ware sherd of a style that
dates to the early 16th century. Although the surface shows signs of
erosion, test excavations revealed that the site has 10 to 30 cm of
soil with the anthropogenic discoloration that is typical of a
habitation site. At CC-1, imported pottery predominates, including
a sherd with a red-painted interior. A carved coral cemi was
recovered during a previous visit to the site. The site has extremely
black soil to a depth of 50 cm (Keegan et al. 1994:10-11).
Several important facts can be gleaned from this brief description. First, it is apparent
that Cotton Cay was settled by different groups of people at different times. No radiocarbon
dates have been obtained from these sites, but relative dating techniques indicate that CC-1 and
CC-2 were not occupied simultaneously. CC-1, by virtue of its predominantly imported ceramic
assemblage was probably occupied first. CC-2, with its mixed assemblage of imported and
Palmetto ware ceramics, was occupied later. Second, CC-1 is probably a Meillacan site roughly
contemporaneous with Governor’s Beach and Gibbs Cay to the north. As I have discussed,
imported ceramics recovered from a context with little or no Palmetto ware are very likely
Meillacan. If they were Chican, then it is far more likely that Palmetto ware would be present.
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Finally, CC-2 must have been a very late site occupied within the context of European contact.
The melado ware sherd discovered at the site could not have been acquired prior to the arrival of
the Spanish.
Unfortunately, little else has been written about indigenous usage of Cotton Cay.
Moreover, the scant literature that exists has never been synthesized into a broader regional
analysis of indigenous settlement patterns in the southern Bahama archipelago. My work was
designed to address these issues and formulate a more complete understanding of the role Cotton
Cay played in regional prehistory and the early post-contact period. The introduction provided
by Keegan et al. (1994) serves as an excellent foundation upon which to expand this concept.
Description of site CC-1.
Unfortunately I did not have the time to excavate both of the Cotton Cay sites. The
owners permitted us to conduct limited test excavations for one day only, and the sites are about
1.3 kilometers apart. This meant that I had to choose one or the other. I decided to visit both
sites and then decide which to excavate based on my impressions.
We were dropped off at the westernmost beach on the north coast of the island, very near
CC-1. The GPS coordinates that I obtained from the files at the Turks & Caicos National
Museum helped us find the site quickly. Like many sites in the region, CC-1 lies on the
downward slope behind the ridge/dunes, approximately 40 meters from the beach. This beach is
the only one on the northwestern part of the island, and is only 200 meters long by 15 meters
wide. The rest of the shoreline is ironstone. After a brief surface reconnaissance it was clear that
the site was rather small. We observed a number of very fragmentary imported sherds on the
surface, but nothing was diagnostic. I decided to proceed east and use our limited time to
excavate CC-2 instead, and we moved on.
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Description of site CC-2
CC-2 is situated 1.3 km east of CC-1, adjacent to the only other sandy beach on the north
shore of Cotton Cay. Its beach is even smaller than the one associated with CC-1—it is only 90
meters long by 12 meters wide. The site is situated on a flat area atop the ridge, approximately 3
meters above the high water mark (Figure 4-19). It affords a beautiful view of the Turks Bank,
with Grand Turk and all of the other cays visible on the horizon. The view to the south
overlooks two salinas in the interior (Figure 4-20). Both are oval shaped and roughly 150 by 90
meters in dimension. The first salina lay 100 meters due south of the site; the second, 115 meters
to the southeast. Both salinas were dry at the time but showed evidence (plastic bottles, of
course) that they were recently flooded by the sea. If these were open to the sea at the time the
site was occupied, then they would have made an excellent natural harbor in which to park
canoes and process the daily catch. However, I walked the perimeter of both salinas during our
visit and discovered no evidence of such activity.
The surface scatter at CC-2 greatly exceeds that of CC-1, and makes a more powerful
first impression. The northernmost extremity of the deposit is eroding slightly out of and down
the ridge toward the beach, but almost all of the site remains intact. All of the usual telltales of
indigenous occupation are readily apparent in the part of the deposit that is eroding—an
abundance of fire-cracked limestone and mollusk shells lies near the top of the ridge. The
surface scatter is less plentiful atop the ridge, however, and few ceramics were in evidence
anywhere on the surface. The soils are the fine, gray matrix commonly associated with
anthropogenic activity.
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Excavation details
The boundaries of CC-2 are well defined and it was easy to determine the shape and
extent of the site. The site is ovoid, 50 meters long and between 24 and 30 meters wide. An
oval-shaped cleared area measuring 30 by 10 meters lay in the center of the site. This appeared
at once to be the primary occupation area. The surface within the central oval consists primarily
of gray anthrosol with few rocks and little cultural material. It is surrounded on all sides by a 6
to 12.5 meter wide ring of exposed limestone, rock piles, burnt limestone, broken mollusk shells,
and (according to my field notes) “other cleared and burned stuff that you can’t dig in.” All
observed features were within the outer ring; no middening of any kind was detected in the
interior oval, which was uniformly flat. Compared to a site like Gibbs Cay, it was quite easy to
determine how the residents of CC-2 set up camp. They cleared the center and threw the rocks
and some of their garbage on the periphery.
The entire team participated in the excavations at CC-2 on June 12, 2004. As mentioned
above, we were only allowed to visit the island for one day and we did not have permission to
conduct anything more than test excavations. Consequently, I erected a transect directly down
the middle of the interior oval portion of the site, and spaced 50 x 50 cm test units every three
meters along the transect. A total of 9 units, designated 1-9, were completed (Figure 4-21). All
units were excavated by trowel and brush to either bedrock or sterile soil. All matrix was
screened through ¼ inch hardware cloth mesh. The excavations yielded a total of 15 field
specimen (FS) proveniences. Each FS provenience corresponds to a 20 cm stratigraphic level. I
elected to work in 20 cm levels rather than the customary 10 cm levels because the deposit was
shallow and the 50 x 50 units contain only 25% of the volume of traditional 1 x 1 meter units.
Moreover, our objectives at CC-2 were different from those of other sites we excavated. Given
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that we had but a single day, we needed to test the site, not dissect it, and we had to proceed with
alacrity. Overall, it seemed like a reasonable compromise between lumping all of the material
recovered from 50 x 50 units into a single provenience—as I had at Gibbs Cay, Middleton Cay,
and Spud—and proceeding in 10 cm strata as I had with all of the larger units.
Results
Overview. We certainly did not encounter an abundance of ceramics in the subsurface
deposits of CC-2. The 9 test units yielded a total of 23 sherds weighing a combined 73 grams
(Table 4-5). Palmetto ware dominated the assemblage both in number (Figure 4-22) and by
weight (Figure 4-23). Twenty-one of the 23 sherds (91.3%) accounting for 94.5% of the total
weight of the site’s ceramic assemblage were from Palmetto ware vessels. Most of the sherds
were small, there were no rim sherds, and no sherd bore any decoration. Of the two imported
sherds, there was one small (1 gram) undecorated body sherd and one medium (3 gram) inturned
shoulder sherd. Neither was decorated.
For CC-2, the analysis of the vertical and horizontal distributions of the ceramic
assemblage is limited to sherd count only and is not broken down by weight. At 73 grams, the
total weight of the CC-2 ceramic assemblage is quite small, and any analysis of distribution by
this measure is too open to bias to be constructive.
Vertical distribution. Units 5, 6, and 7 near the center of the transect produced the
lion’s share of the ceramic assemblage (Figure 4-24). These three units accounted for 19 of the
23 sherds recovered at the site. Of the remainder, three sherds, including the two imports, were
obtained from Unit 1. The lone remaining Palmetto ware sherd was recovered from Unit 4.
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Units 2 and 3 at the east end of the site, and Units 8 and 9 at the west end, did not yield any
ceramic material.
Horizontal distribution. As I mentioned, the conditions placed upon our excavations at
CC-2 led me to employ 20 cm levels. While the interpretation of the ceramic assemblage’s
horizontal distribution is more coarse than for other sites, it nevertheless provides some
interesting insights.
The entire transect was approximately 30 meters from end to end. Because this was a
manageable distance, and because the site’s terrain was essentially flat and featureless, all of the
units were tied into a single datum that was established in the center of the transect near Unit 5.
The line was attached to a stout stick that was hammered deeply into the ground. The string
upon which the line-level was affixed was attached to a notched point on the stick precisely 10
cm above the surface. All measurements were obtained from the center of each unit—we did not
measure the depth at each corner since these were 50 x 50 cm units. When measurements were
taken, a student held the stick firmly and every effort was made to ensure that the line was kept
as taught as possible. As a result, I am confident in the overall integrity of the depth
measurements of each unit to within a centimeter or two. Based on these measurements, we
determined that the deposit at CC-2 was shallow, and ranged in depth from 5 cm to 37 cm below
the surface (Table 4-6). As we were working within the rubric of 20 cm strata, this corresponds
to two levels—Level 1 and Level 2.
An examination of the vertical distribution of the ceramic assemblage reveals that Level
2 of the site yielded 15 of the 23 sherds in the assemblage, while Level 1 produced only 8
(Figure 4-25). All of the ceramics recovered from the lower level were Palmetto ware, some of
which were directly atop bedrock. The two imported sherds, as well as the remaining 6 Palmetto
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ware sherds, were obtained from the upper level. Thus we have a situation at CC-2 where
Palmetto ware is not only found in context with, but also superimposed by, imported ceramics
from Hispaniola.
Analysis. In spite of the small sample size, the CC-2 ceramic assemblage is informative.
Our discovery of Palmetto ware in the lowest levels and throughout the site’s deposits supports
the notion that CC-2 was first established in late prehistory. The two imported sherds were not
diagnostic, but the fact that they were recovered above Palmetto ware in the upper layer of the
deposit is strong circumstantial evidence that these belong to the Chican subseries. Meillacan
ceramics were manufactured in Hispaniola into the 14th century, but this style had disappeared by
the time Europeans arrived in the West Indies. Although we did not recover any additional items
of European manufacture, the melado ware sherd identified by Keegan et al. (1994:9) indicates
that the occupation persisted until well after Spanish contact in the late 15th century. As such,
CC-2 may represent one of the last episodes—if not the final act—of indigenous settlement in
the Turks islands.
Vertebrates. We recovered one bag of vertebrate faunal material from 14 of the 15 FS
proveniences at the site. Unit 9 (FS 15) was the only provenience to yield no bones. Although
the material was present throughout the horizontal layers of the deposit, I noted in my field
journal that there was a marked increase in the volume of faunal remains “just before bedrock.”
This feature seemed most noticeable in the middle of the site, where Units 3-7 were placed. In
Unit 5, the amplification of faunal material was associated with a distinct “increase in burnt
material” and a clear ashy feature within extremely dark soil at the Level 1/Level 2 horizon, 20
cm below the surface and 8 cm above bedrock. Unit 5 was located at the center of the transect
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and very close to the exact center of the site. It appears that much of the cooking was done here
during the site’s earlier occupation horizon.
Invertebrates. The invertebrate faunal assemblage at CC-2 was analyzed. Compared to
other sites in the Turks & Caicos, the assemblage is small and rather pedestrian. This is more
likely a product of my sampling methodology than a statement about the intensity and duration
of indigenous occupation. Because our allotted time was extremely limited (about four hours), I
only collected and analyzed invertebrate faunal material that was excavated from the nine 50 x
50 cm test units. Between the size of the units and the shallowness of the deposit, we screened
only 0.56 cubic meters of matrix, which is less than a sixth of the volume processed at Gibbs
Cay.
The invertebrate faunal assemblage at CC-2 consists of 8 taxa and includes 4 mollusks
and 4 corals. Conch (MNI=17) and top shell (MNI=11) are the dominant mollusks (Table 5-7).
Again, many more specimens of these taxa were observed on the surface but not collected. Four
of the analyzed conch shells were formed into tools, including 2 conch “knippers” or small pick
tips (Keegan 2007:88) and 2 medium hammers. All of the tools were recovered from Units 1, 2
and 3 on the east end of the site. The remaining mollusks were a single, broken Oliva shell bead
from Unit 1 and 2 intact halves of the Chama sarda bivalve from Unit 2. Acropora cervicornus
was the most abundant coral. The abrader and almost all of the raw material (279/294 grams)
was recovered from Unit 2. The brain coral (Diploria sp.) was found in three clusters in Units 1,
3 and 5. The remaining corals were represented by a single, small specimen.
Analysis. Although the data are limited, the faunal assemblage at CC-2 provides clues
about the timing of the occupation as well as the manner in which the site was laid out. First, the
concentration of bones in the lower stratum suggests that the site was more intensively occupied
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shortly after inception, and that usage decreased over time. Either more people lived there
earlier on, or they lived there for a longer period of time, or both. Second, the burned material
and extremely dark and ashy soil feature at the Level 1/Level 2 horizon in Unit 5 suggests that
the residents maintained their cooking fire at that spot, which is almost exactly in the center of
the oval-shaped site. Finally, all of the things associated with bead production—conch tools,
intact Chama sarda shells, and the raw Acropora cervicornus stems and the abrader—were
found in Units 1-3. Thus it appears that beadmaking activities were concentrated at the eastern
end of the site.
At CC-2, we screened about one-sixth as much matrix as at Gibbs Cay. Yet we found
more than twice as many bead blanks (n=14 versus n=6). All of the blanks were rounded—some
better than others—but only one was drilled. Interestingly, they were manufactured from a
variety of raw materials and no one particular taxon seems to dominate (Figure 4-26). Chama
sarda, conch, topsnail, and what might be Tellina are all represented. There are also several
blanks made from shells that I was unable to identify, which is a common frustration because “it
is not always possible to tell which shell the finished objects came from” (Keegan 2007:176).
Thirteen of the 14 blanks were recovered from the eastern end of the site, which places them in
context with the beadmaking materials discussed in the previous section. Remarkably, all
thirteen of these blanks were recovered from the upper stratum of the site that lay within 20 cm
of the surface. Unit 1, Level 1 accounted for 8 blanks, Unit 2, Level 1 a further 4 blanks, and
Unit 3, Level 1 the remaining 1 blank. The only blank obtained outside of this context was
recovered from Level 2 of Unit 7, near the western end of CC-2.
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I have discussed the prevalence of beadmaking in the region earlier in this dissertation.
Even within this framework, CC-2 stands out. The ceramic evidence clearly indicates that CC-2
is a Palmetto-era site that was occupied even after European contact. As such, it is between two
and four centuries later than all of the other sites in the region where beadmaking has been
identified as a primary activity. The significance of this discovery, and the role that CC-2 may
have played in Lucayan-Spanish relations, is discussed in detail below.
Interpretation of CC-2
Based on the ceramic, faunal, and beadmaking assemblages at CC-2, it is possible to
formulate a picture of how the site was utilized. This in turn sheds light on the role CC-2 may
have played in regional settlement patterns over time.
The site’s small size, shallow deposits, and limited material culture place CC-2 neatly
within the “outpost” category of my organizational framework. There is no indication that the
site was occupied continually over long periods of time, but instead was inhabited on an
occasional, seasonal, or perhaps semi-permanent basis by people looking to exploit the locally-
available resources. However, it seems likely that the objectives and demographics of those
occupying the CC-2 outpost changed over time.
The Level 2 horizon. Let us begin at the bottom. Level 2 was left behind by the people
who initially established the site, and represents this first phase of occupation. Level 2 contains a
ceramic assemblage that consists exclusively of Palmetto ware. Radiocarbon dates were not
obtained from the site, but relative dating of any primarily Palmetto ware assemblage establishes
with some confidence a floor date of approximately AD 1300. The vertebrate faunal assemblage
is also most dense in this level, suggesting that the site was most intensively occupied during this
period. This could be caused by a larger population, a more prolonged presence, a more regular
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pattern of seasonal occupation, or some combination thereof. The dark, ashy soils and burned
materials and bone found in the centrally-located Unit 5 suggest that the site’s cooking fire was
located in this vicinity. The lack of continuity of this feature in Units 3 and 4, both located 3
meters to either side of Unit 5, supports this notion. The areas peripheral to the hearth could
represent a house floor or floors, perhaps arranged on either side of the central plazaette where
the hearth was situated and where meal preparation and communal activities took place. Based
on Keegan’s analysis of house distribution across sites of various dimension, we would expect to
find 1 to 3 houses at a site the size of CC-2 (1992:74).
The dearth of bead blanks and beadmaking tools in the Level 2 horizon suggests that the
people who established CC-2 were not actively engaged in this activity. Thus, the impetus
behind the settlement must have lain elsewhere. Although little is known about CC-1 on the
western side of Cotton Cay, it is apparent that the sites are not contemporaries. If so, then the
entire island and its environs may have been vacant at the time CC-2 was established. A
landscape devoid of humans would have been an attractive draw to settlers, as they would have
faced no competition. I argue that this is why CC-2 was first established.
Without a seasonality analysis, it is difficult to gauge the permanence of the Level 2
occupation. Recall that seasonal analysis at GT-2 revealed that the site was occupied during the
dry season in February and March (Keegan et al. 1994:22), which Keegan (2007:88) believes
reflects a pattern in which groups from Hispaniola visited the Turks & Caicos to exploit
resources when things were slow at home. If the Level 2 residents of CC-2 were from
Hispaniola, then this model might apply. But the linkage between the first occupants of CC-2
and Hispaniola is tenuous at best. We encountered neither imported ceramics nor any exotic
materials of any kind in the lower stratum. We also did not find any evidence of bead
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manufacture. While these results could certainly be the product of sampling bias, they raise an
intriguing possibility that is worth considering: the people who established CC-2 may not have
had any direct ties to Hispaniola. If so, then it is also less likely that they migrated from the
Caicos Islands, for it is well documented that sites in the Caicos maintained strong ties to
communities along the northern coast of that island. Instead, the pure Palmetto assemblage and
the lack of a beadmaking industry makes the Level 2 occupation of CC-2 look more like sites in
the central Bahamas. Thus it is possible that CC-2 was settled by peoples from the north drawn
by the empty islands and underexploited resources of the Turks Bank. This challenges the
conventional thinking that all migration into the southern Bahamas originated in the Greater
Antilles, which in and of itself is an idea worth pursuing. It also raises the possibility that CC-2
was occupied on a more permanent basis by a larger and more demographically diverse group
than we believe lived at places like Governor’s Beach and Gibbs Cay, and that villages in the
Turks Islands could indeed survive for an extended period of time.
The Level 1 horizon. Let us now examine the upper stratum. There are pronounced
differences between it and the underlying deposit. First, there is strong evidence for a dedicated
beadmaking industry. All but one of the 14 bead blanks were recovered from Level 1, as were
all of the associated beadmaking tools. There is a clear contextual association among these items
as well: all of these materials were recovered at the east end of the site in Units 1, 2, and 3.
Second is the ceramic assemblage. Keegan’s team collected both imported ceramics and
Palmetto ware (as well as the Spanish melado ware sherd) from the surface (Keegan et al.
1994:9). Our subsurface tests revealed that Level 1 also contained a mixed assemblage of
imported and Palmetto ware ceramics, but that imported pottery was limited to the upper 20 cm
of the deposit. Notably, both of the imported sherds we found were recovered from the
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beadmaking context at the east end of the site, in Unit 1. This provenience alone accounted for 8
of the 14 bead blanks. These facts imply that the bead makers were the ones who brought the
imported ceramics. Finally, the vertebrate faunal assemblage in Level 1 is noticeably less dense.
This could result from fewer people, shorter stays, more widely-spaced visits to the island, a
decline in taxa availability, or some combination of these factors. In any event, it appears that
the site was less intensively occupied later in prehistory than it was initially.
Our excavations revealed that the Level 1 occupation horizon at CC-2 looks similar to
beadmaking outposts like Gibbs Cay and Governor’s Beach in the Turks islands and MC-8/MC-
10 in the Caicos. Yet the pottery at CC-2, and by extension the timing, stands in stark contrast.
Gibbs Cay, Governor’s Beach, MC-8/MC-10 are all Meillac-era beadmaking sites that date from
the 11th through 13th centuries, whereas Level 1 of CC-2 is a Palmetto/Chican/melado ware
beadmaking endeavor that occurred hundreds of years later and in context with Spanish contact.
Evidence from Middleton and Spud (see Chapter 5) indicates that beadmaking was common in
the Caicos into the 14th century. However there is less evidence that it was as widely practiced
beyond perhaps AD 1400. This fact raises two obvious questions: who were the CC-2 bead
makers, and why did they re-establish a beadmaking industry on Cotton Cay?
Who were the bead makers? The Level 1 horizon was a period of less intensive
occupation, suggesting that a small group of people occupied the site occasionally for a short
time to manufacture shell beads. So where did they live the rest of the time? The presence of
imported ceramics on the surface and in Level 1 suggests that, unlike the earlier Level 2 horizon
inhabitants of CC-2, the bead makers had ties to Hispaniola. These ties could be manifest in one
of two ways. First, the bead makers may have hailed directly from Hispaniola, and commuted
from there to the Turks Bank to make beads. If so, then one would expect to see a ceramic
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assemblage that consists almost exclusively of imported ceramics in the Level 1 horizon. As
Hispaniolans, they would not have had access to Bahamian Palmetto ware. Even if they did, it is
unlikely that they would have opted for a technologically inferior product when it was a simple
task to bring as many lighter, stronger, and more durable pots as they would need for their brief
visit. Of course, we did not observe an exclusively imported assemblage in Level 1 of CC-2—
Palmetto ware outnumbers the imported ceramics in this provenience. Therefore it is less likely
that the bead makers of the Level 1 horizon came directly from Hispaniola.
A more plausible explanation is that the Level 1 bead makers were from the Caicos
islands. Here, a mixed assemblage of Palmetto ware and imported ceramics has been recovered
from numerous sites that were occupied after AD 1300, like MC-12, MC-32, and MC-6 on
Middle Caicos (Keegan 2007:139-143), and Middleton and Spud on the Caicos Bank (See
Chapter 5). Of these sites, two were also occupied after European contact. European brass was
recovered from MC-6, and Old World rat bones (Rattus rattus) were observed at MC-32
(Keegan 2007:168,182). The melado ware sherd Keegan’s team recovered at CC-2 in 1993
indicates that the Level 1 horizon of CC-2 was also occupied after contact. Because the ceramic
assemblages are similar and the timing fits, these two sites on Middle Caicos are the best
candidates for the home villages of the bead makers.
Because the Level 1 horizon of CC-2 seems linked to MC-6 and MC-32, it is necessary to
examine these sites and their relationship with Hispaniola more closely. Keegan
(1992,1997,2007) has long argued that MC-6 and MC-32 were sister communities that
maintained close social and economic ties in the 15th and early 16th centuries. They were also
socially and economically allied with communities on the north coast of Hispaniola. As the
larger and more complex of the two settlements, MC-6 is viewed as a “gateway community”
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through which the resources of the southern Bahamas passed to northern Hispaniola (Sullivan
1981:425). Keegan describes the situation succinctly: “The people of MC-6 were entrepreneurs
who enhanced their status by supplying the Tainos of Hispaniola with foods and other goods,
some of which were no longer readily available in their territories” (2007:184). Exports included
salt harvested from Middle Caicos’ seasonal salt pans (Sullivan 1981) as well as “favored
fishes,” marine reptiles, and terrestrial vertebrates (Keegan 2007:182-184). Shell beads are not
listed among the exports to Hispaniola, presumably because no evidence for an active
beadmaking industry was observed at either MC-6 or MC-32. This is interesting because of the
long history of beadmaking throughout the Caicos Bank—MC-8/MC-10 are only 1500 meters
west of MC-6, and Spud and Middleton lay just over the southern horizon. Moreover,
Hispaniolans traditionally placed a premium value upon these exotic items that came from across
the sea (Keegan 2007:82). Beads were certainly still in demand in Hispaniola, not only as
personal jewelry, but also as an integral part of the woven cotton cemis “that distinguished chiefs
during public ceremonies” (Taylor et al. 1997:163). These facts suggest that an effort to
manufacture beads for export would still have been a worthy endeavor, yet there is no evidence
that it actually occurred at MC-6.
There certainly is no reason the Lucayans could not make beads on Middle Caicos in the
15th and early 16th centuries. That they did not would therefore seem to be a matter of
preference. Perhaps trade in salt, cured fish, and other favored foodstuffs was so profitable that
there was little incentive to produce other wares for trade. It is also possible that specialized,
domestic artisans became more common in Hispaniola as Taino chiefdoms grew in population
and complexity, and that they satisfied demand so that imports were no longer necessary.
Whatever the reason, the evidence suggests that people from MC-6 and/or MC-32 re-established
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a beadmaking enterprise around AD 1500 on Cotton Cay. But why? I believe the answer lies in
the contact-era timing of the Level 1 horizon at CC-2, and the changes that followed the arrival
of the Spanish in the region.
In her 2004 article “Reconsidering Taino Social Dynamics After Spanish Conquest:
Gender and Class in Culture Contact Studies” Dr. Kathleen Deagan explores the preconceptions
and realities surrounding the Taino response to Spanish invasion. She draws heavily upon her
far-reaching research at En Bas Saline, “the only systematically excavated Taino town site in the
Caribbean that was occupied both before and after contact” (Deagan 2004:598). En Bas Saline is
located on the northeastern coast of Haiti just east of the modern town of Cap Haitian. It is
believed to have been the seat of the paramount cacique Guacanagari (Deagan 2004:605), whose
sphere of influence included the north-central coastal areas of Hispaniola, with which the Caicos
Bank settlements had long maintained social and economic ties (Cordell 2007, Sinelli 2001).
Because of this relationship, Keegan (2007) uses En Bas Saline as a lens through which to
understand MC-6. Therefore, Deagan’s analysis provides insight into how the arrival of the
Spanish may have trickled down to affect the social and economic fabric of Middle Caicos, and
by extension, CC-2, even though the Lucayans were not immediately dealing with the Spaniards
in person. Before I explore this idea, it is necessary to review the events that transpired through
the first two decades of Spanish/Taino contact, so as to understand the social and political
landscape in which the Lucayans suddenly found themselves after 1492.
Columbus’ first encounter with the residents of En Bas Saline came immediately after the
Santa Maria was wrecked early Christmas morning, 1492 (Morrison 1942:301). Because the
Nina and the Pinta could not accommodate the entire retinue on the long journey back to Spain,
Columbus was forced to leave 39 of his crew in Guacanagari’s village. Exactly what transpired
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after Columbus departed on January 4, 1493 remains unclear, but when he returned the next year
all of his men were dead, and the situation had begun to deteriorate (Morrison 1942:307,424).
Although Columbus himself maintained a friendly association with Guacanagari, his relations
with other Taino caciques were not as cordial. Many formed alliances and took up arms against
the Spanish, ushering in a five-year period of open warfare. Moreover, the (perceived)
opportunity to get rich quick attracted evermore Spaniards of ignoble intentions. Their self-
motivated interests clashed with Columbus’ plans for the island, and The Admiral was removed
in chains from Hispaniola to Spain in 1500 (Sauer 1966:103). At that time only about 300
Spanish remained on Hispaniola (Sauer 1966:106).
Francisco de Bobadilla was sent to replace Columbus. He arrived in 1500, and for two
years oversaw Spanish affairs as Governor (Sauer 1966:107). Internal disputes among the
Spanish diminished after Columbus’ departure, as did armed Indian resistance, so that things
under Bobadilla were “prosperous for the Spanish and somewhat less onerous for the natives”
(Sauer 1966:106). This period of relative peace ended almost immediately in 1502 when
Bobadilla’s replacement, Frey Nicolas de Ovando, arrived with some 2,500 Spanish settlers.
The influx of so many newcomers strained the fragile economy of the island. Moreover, many
of the immigrants immediately rushed to the gold fields, which spiked demand for native labor.
Indian uprisings became more commonplace, and Ovando eventually set out to pacify the island
once and for all (Sauer 1966:147-148).
Although greatly outnumbered, Spanish technological superiority tilted the balance in
their favor. In 1502 and 1503, Ovando either led or ordered massacres in the southeast and west
of Hispaniola to decapitate the upper echelons of the Taino power structure and wipe out as
much of their military as possible. The last major engagement of his effort occurred in 1504. In
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this “war of Higuey,” the last paramount cacique of the island was killed, and Indian resistance
all but collapsed (Sauer 1966:149-150). The island was largely pacified, but at a huge price paid
mostly in Taino blood.
Ovando then worked with the remaining, lower-echelon caciques to organize Taino labor
under the encomienda system (Sauer 1966:150). This program required native individuals to
provide labor to the Spanish for four to six months at a time (Deagan 2004:602). Brutal working
conditions and forced relocation into cramped quarters caused many Taino laborers to die of
injury, exhaustion, or disease. The Taino population, already decimated by war, continued to
decline so that “By the middle of the sixteenth century, the Taino were no longer identifiable as a
social entity” (Deagan 2004:602).
Let us now return to the particular relationship between En Bas Saline and the Caicos
Islands. The central thesis of Deagan’s argument is that many aspects of Taino life remained
largely intact even as the population was rapidly declining. She acknowledges that “The
combined effects of military defeat, near slavery, forced physical relocation, social abuses, and
new diseases that confronted the Taino…created severe demographic pressure and population
loss,” but questions the “widely accepted and often implicit corollary theme to the demographic
collapse of the Taino is that population decline was paralleled by an equally rapid and
devastating disintegration of traditional Taino social, economic, political, artistic, and ideological
organization” (2004:602). Indeed, many Taino cultural institutions survived relatively intact
because Spanish policies did not affect every Taino equally. Her article explores the reasons that
some aspects of Taino society persisted for decades after contact while others were disrupted
almost immediately. It is in this context that the Level 1 beadmaking horizon of CC-2 is best
understood.
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Deagan reminds us that in most cases, the Spanish respected the Taino caciques’ chiefly
authority (2004:601-2). This probably reflects the two cultures’ high degree of social
stratification, which led the Spanish leaders to view the Indian leaders more or less as equals
rather than subjects. Even though Ovando murdered the highest-ranking caciques, his actions
are best viewed as a military tactic designed to win a war rather than a statement about his
opinion of the native social hierarchy. In fact, after the island was “pacified” the Spanish under
Ovando worked closely with the surviving Taino leaders to implement the encomienda system
(Sauer 1966:150). In return for their cooperation, these caciques enjoyed immunity: “Spanish
recognition of and respect for chiefly status privileged the caciques, who were generally exempt
from labor requirements and instead organized their subjects for the encomienda labor drafts”
(Deagan 2004:608).
To fill the draft quota, the caciques conscripted laborers from among their subjects.
Because the labor was physically demanding, those who were hardier (i.e. men) were more likely
to be drafted than others. Thus, “the direct impact of Spanish dominion may have been
experienced most keenly along class and gender lines, specifically non-elite households and men.
Although Taino women often served the Spaniards in several capacities…it was for the most part
non-elite men who were recruited for distant work in Spanish-owned mines, agricultural fields,
and town construction” (Deagan 2004:609-10). This quickly created a situation in which male-
dominated activities like hunting terrestrial animals waned (Deagan 2004:616). However,
female-dominated activities like ceramic manufacture remained unchanged (Deagan 2004:611-
615) because women were less likely to be relocated.
Deagan also observed a dramatic disruption in craft production at En Bas Saline in the
post-contact period. She interprets the decline in “specialized artistic activities” as “consistent
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with the hypothesis that men were the primary producers of ornamental craft items, and that the
removal of men from the community should be reflected by a change in the material products of
their work” (Deagan 2004:618). Importantly, she also noted that:
The production of beads and pendants did, in fact, continue into the
post-contact period, but at a markedly reduced level. It should be
noted that the highest proportion of such items at the site occurred
in the post-contact burial…Possibly as a consequence of reduced
production, these ornamental objects seem to have been
emphasized in ritual performance rather than in household use after
contact (Deagan 2004:618).
This is a classic illustration of how the economic law of supply and demand transcends culture.
As Hispaniolan bead makers were hauled off to work for the Spanish, the beads they produced
became increasingly scarce. As supply dwindled, the beads became imbued with additional
social value, as evidenced by their increased role in “ritual performance.” High social value
readily translates into high economic value, as individuals are willing to offer more to obtain
items of prestige. I argue that the post-contact social and economic paradigm Deagan (2004)
described is the primary reason that Lucayans from Middle Caicos re-established the
beadmaking industry at CC-2.
It is well known that MC-6 and MC-32 maintained an active trade with Hispaniola for
many decades prior to the arrival of the Spanish. This trade relied primarily upon exports of
Bahamian salt and foodstuffs in exchange for Hispaniolan ceramics (either utilitarian or
elaborate), raw materials, finished igneous and metamorphic stone tools, religious items, and
possibly spouses (Sullivan 1981:426; Keegan and Maclachlan 1989:614, 623). Prior to 1492, the
Lucayans’ trade with Hispaniola was lucrative. However, the economic dynamic rapidly
changed shortly after the Spanish arrived. Warfare, disease, and forced servitude quickly
launched the Taino population into its sad, downward spiral. As Hispaniolans disappeared by
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the thousands, the demand for Bahamian salt and foodstuffs became less robust. The
“entrepreneurs” at MC-6 were rapidly losing customers, and the model upon which they had
long based their trade was becoming increasingly less lucrative. In short, they had to adapt to
changing market conditions.
The archaeological evidence is clear that contact between the indigenous cultures
continued as these events transpired. Chican pots and Hispaniolan raw materials, finished goods,
and people continued to be imported in exchange for Bahamian staples. News from Hispaniola
would have reached the Turks & Caicos through the same channels as did the melado ware sherd
at CC-2, the European brass at MC-6, and the Old World rodents at MC-32. The Lucayans
would have learned that beads were increasingly scarce and valuable in Hispaniola as the local
bead makers were conscripted to work elsewhere. They would have recognized that raw
material for beads was abundant in their region, and that beads are relatively easy to
manufacture, simple to transport, and worth more as an export than the investment of labor
required to produce and transport them. Finally, and perhaps most significantly, they would
have realized that their existing model was yielding far fewer returns than it had in the recent
past. Aware of the challenge, and perhaps sensing an opportunity, the residents of Middle
Caicos wisely opted to diversify their economy. Trade in beads would offset declines in revenue
from other, traditional sources.
Why re-establish a beadmaking enterprise on Cotton Cay? Logic suggests that the
Lucayans of Middle Caicos made a decision to manufacture beads to augment declining returns
from staple items. The reason they elected to establish this enterprise on Cotton Cay is less
obvious, for as discussed above, there is no practical reason they could not have made beads in
the Caicos Islands. Therefore, the decision to establish this industry across the Columbus
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Passage must have been driven by other factors. I believe that the spread of Spanish dominion
throughout the region played a role. I argue that the decision to relocate some of the men from
Middle Caicos to the “hinterlands” of the Turks Islands was a response to the evolution of
European demands for Indian labor.
Apart from the economic disruption wrought by the decimation of their Hispaniolan
Taino client base, the Lucayans were relatively unaffected by the first 15 years of Spain’s
depravities in the New World. Although some abductions had occurred (Sauer 1966:159), there
had never been any grand effort to capture the Lucayan peoples. That changed in 1509. With a
crass acknowledgement that so many Indians had died that additional labor was “needed” for his
“enterprises,” King Ferdinand instructed Ovando to begin importing Indians from the
“neighboring islands,” including the Bahamas (Sauer 1966:159).
By the end of that year, Puerto Plata, Puerto Real, and Concepcion on the north coast of
Hispaniola were established as the primary hubs of the nascent slave trade (Sauer 1966:159).
Because these ports are all less than 250 km from the Turks & Caicos, these Lucayans would
logically have been among the Spaniards’ early marks. Yet in spite of their vulnerability and
notwithstanding King Ferdinand’s eagerness for new labor, it is unlikely that an immediate and
complete depopulation of the southern Bahamas occurred. No more than a few thousand
Spaniards lived in the New World, and most of them were engaged in other activities. Simply
put, the Spanish did not have the manpower to execute a large-scale slaving operation. It is more
likely that the early slave raids were simple affairs, perhaps involving a single ship and crew.
Evidence from the Molasses reef wreck on the southwestern Caicos Bank corroborates this
notion. The ship, which went down no later than 1513, was heavily armed and provisioned to be
entirely self-sufficient. Many items of intrinsic value to the slavers were recovered from the
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wreck, including 2 breech-loading bombardetta cannons and 15 smaller swivel guns (Turks &
Caicos National Museum 2009). Because these arms could only be obtained from Spain and
were not easily replaced, their presence among the wreckage strongly suggests that the ship
sailed alone. If she had a consort, then these valuable items would have been transferred to the
healthy ship, or salvaged from the shallow waters by free-diving survivors shortly thereafter.
If true, then the small-scale nature of the early Spanish slave raids has three important
implications that are relevant to the interpretation of CC-2. First, it means that indigenous
contact between the Caicos Islands and Hispaniola did not come to an abrupt end, but continued
for a time with increasing modifications. The Spanish artifacts at CC-2 and MC-6 and the rat
bones at MC-32 are clear evidence that trade and social relations remained in force well after
contact, even though new objects were passing through those channels in addition to the
conventional merchandise. Second, there is no reason to suspect that the de facto expansion of
the encomienda system into the Turks & Caicos would have transpired along anything but the
same social and gender lines that Deagan observed at En Bas Saline. Indeed, the Spanish would
have sought to maximize the value of their ventures northward by seeking those Lucayans best
suited to work in the particular economy of Hispaniola. Thus, non-elite men who could work the
gold mines and fields would have been more in demand than other demographic groups. Finally,
if men were the primary targets, but only relatively few men were abducted in any particular
slaving raid, then the Lucayans would have had time to formulate a strategy to adapt and resist
the Spanish by “hiding” the men at the first news of Spanish in the area. Part of this strategy of
resistance could have been to relocate men away from the widely-known and impossible to
conceal Caicos Island population centers into more peripheral areas. If so, then the Turks Islands
would have been an excellent place to hide. As discussed earlier in this chapter, the
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archaeological record indicates that few settlements existed in the Turks Islands after about AD
1280. These islands simply would not have been on the radar screen of anyone in Hispaniola—
either Indian or Spanish—and could have served as a refuge from the slave raids of the early 16th
century. During these periods of self-imposed exile, men could engage in what would still have
been a lucrative economic enterprise: manufacturing beads for export to the remaining Taino
settlements scattered about Hispaniola.
The CC-2 operation was likely active early in the 16th century. Over this period, Sauer
observed that “the price per [Lucayan] head went up from 5 to 150 gold pesos” (1966:160). The
initially low price commanded by imported Lucayan slaves suggests that local Hispaniolan labor
was still available and the Indians had certainly not disappeared. Thus, there was still a market
for imported beads during the early phases of the Lucayan slave trade, and it could have been
supplied by men from the Caicos settlements that went into hiding to avoid the slave ships. As
time passed, Indians working the Spanish mines and fields continued to die. As the Hispaniolan
labor pool shrank, prices for new slaves naturally rose. Moreover, Lucayans were prized for
their diving ability, and commanded an additional premium for employ as pearl divers on the
coast of Venezuela (Keegan 1992:221). This would motivate the Spanish slavers to increase
their slaving efforts in search of greater and greater profits. As pressure upon the Lucayan
populations increased, fewer and fewer Caicos men would have been available to make the
beads. Concomitantly, demand waned as the indigenous populations of Hispaniola gradually
disappeared. Even if some Lucayans survived beyond the early 16th century, as the radiocarbon
data from Gibbs Cay suggests, it is unlikely that any beads were exported after perhaps 1520.
There just was no market. By then the centuries-old tradition of exporting beads to Hispaniola
had run its course.
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Concluding thoughts on CC-2. Because the sample size of the material assemblage at
CC-2 is small, the scenario I describe relies heavily on theory and inference. Still, I believe that
my hypothesis best explains the unusual data recovered from the Level 1 horizon of CC-2. It
also offers an interesting window into what life was like for the Lucayans at this seminal juncture
in history, which is a concept that has never been thoroughly examined. Exploring this idea
further would require a re-examination of the material recovered from MC-6 and MC-32.
Specifically, it would be helpful to learn how the relationship between Hispaniola and the Caicos
sites changed in the post-contact era. The Lucayan material assemblage should reflect an
evolution in the trade relationship—driven by basic economic forces—as Hispaniolan Taino
populations declined.
In the first decades of the post-contact period, demand for Bahamian salt and foodstuffs
must have waned as their Hispaniolan customers died from warfare, forced servitude, and
disease. Although the Spanish probably wanted these products too, they were far too few of
them to make up the entire difference. As with any business enterprise, weaker demand means
lower “profits.” As fewer Hispaniolan customers consumed fewer goods, the volume of exports
from the Caicos Islands would have decreased. This would cause the Lucayans to either drop
prices to stimulate demand and move the product, or to cut back on supply because there was no
place to sell it all. Either way, they would have seen their overall purchasing power erode. This
could be measured in the frequency of Hispaniolan materials they acquired in exchange, which
should be eminently observable in the archaeological record.
Here, Deagan’s (2004) discussion of the relationship between gender and production at
post-contact En Bas Saline tells us what to look for at MC-6 and MC-32. First, did the ratio of
Palmetto ware to imports change in favor of more Palmetto ware? Even though Keegan
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observed that 94% of the ceramics at MC-6 were locally made (2007:184), the chronology of the
deposit is poorly understood and based upon a single uncalibrated radiocarbon date (see Keegan
2007:142). A finer-grained analysis of the ceramic assemblage within an enhanced temporal
context may reveal if the Palmetto/imported ratio changed over time, and if so, how. Second, is
there any change in the frequency of imported lithics in the terminal strata? Because cherts are
unavailable in the carbonate Bahamas, any change in the frequency of these materials at MC-6
would enlighten our understanding of how the Lucayan/Hispaniola trade relationship evolved.
If further analysis reveals that any change occurred, such change would not have been
caused by an immediate post-contact disruption in the supply of Hispaniolan materials:
During the same period, there was a high degree of continuity in

the kinds and proportions of items presumed to be associated with
women’s activities, or to have been produced by women, including
…ceramic production. There is the possible implication as well—
at least in the case of lithic production…—that women may have
assumed some of the most critical subsistence and production tasks
thought to have been traditionally performed by men” (Deagan
2004:621).
As such, any shifts in the composition of the ceramic or lithic assemblages away from imported
items toward locally-produced materials is probably better explained by the fact that the
Lucayans’ traditional business model simply did not afford them the purchasing power they had
long enjoyed. As discussed at length above, the decision to re-establish a beadmaking enterprise
on CC-2 could have been designed to ameliorate the deficit and preserve the Lucayans’
“standard of living”, albeit for a limited time. Clearly, more analysis is necessary to determine
exactly how the Lucayans responded to these events. It is my hope that my thoughts here will
inspire additional research into this important, yet largely unexplored facet of Lucayan history,
and address Deagan’s concern that “very little is known archaeologically about the Taino during
this [post-contact] period” (2004:598).
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The Archaeology of the Turks Islands
One of the objectives of my research was to assimilate the disparate references pertaining
to the prehistory of the Turks & Caicos Islands into a single document. What follows is general
overview of Turks Island archaeology that broadly incorporates my work and the results of
previous research into the cultural historical timetable outlined in Chapter 1.
Summary of Turks Bank Prehistory
The archaeological record of the Turks Islands is composed of nine sites and three
activity areas. Of the nine sites, Governor’s Beach and Coralie on Grand Turk are the most
substantially excavated and widely available in the literature. Next are Gibbs Cay and CC-2,
which are, of course, discussed above. The remaining five sites are poorly understood and
sparsely documented, including GT-1 and GT-4 on Grand Turk, CC-1 on Cotton Cay, and SC-1
and SC-2 on Salt Cay. Three activity areas have also been identified in the Turks Islands. Long
Cay, Pinzon Cay, and Grand Turk have one activity area apiece.
Ostionan Phase: AD 700 to AD 1150
The Turks Islands were first settled by Ostionan-affiliated peoples from eastern
Hispaniola. They established the Coralie site on Grand Turk early in the 8th century AD. These
first people in the Turks Islands encountered a pristine ecology that had never been subjected to
human predation. Consequently, they enjoyed a rich diet high in terrestrial species like iguana
and tortoise and high-ranked marine taxa like big fish and sea turtle. These resources far
exceeded the available subsistence items in their native Hispaniola, so they continued to visit on
a sporadic, seasonal basis for several centuries. Their predation gradually depleted the ecology
by extirpating many of the terrestrial species. For this reason, or perhaps due to social changes
back home, their last visit to the outpost occurred late in the 12th century AD.
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Meillacan Phase: AD 1150 to circa AD 1300
Shortly before Coralie was abandoned, a different group established a new site on the
opposite end of Grand Turk. The Governor’s Beach site was intermittently occupied by
Meillacan peoples from the north-central coast of Hispaniola. The Governor’s Beach outpost
was a purely commercial enterprise, established for the express purpose of manufacturing shell
beads for export back to their homeland. Thousands of completed beads and bead blanks were
recovered from the site. Governor’s Beach was abandoned suddenly, as if by force. Because
more than 400 completed beads were found burned in a fire, it seems as if the Governor’s Beach
residents lost the battle. Some researchers argue that the Coralie residents destroyed Governor’s
Beach, but I argue that belligerents from the Caicos Islands were responsible.
Meillacan-affiliated peoples never returned to Governor’s Beach, but they may have
established a footing on Grand Turk at GT-4. GT-4 is situated on the northwestern coast of the
island, which places it quite near the Coralie site. This fact suggests that it was occupied after
Coralie was abandoned in the late 12th century, for it is difficult to imagine two completely
culturally distinct groups coexisting within sight of each other. In any event, GT-4 has never
been excavated, and the site is heavily disturbed by residential construction. Surface
reconnaissance suggests that it is similar to Governor’s Beach, but absent more data, it is not
possible to establish a definitive affiliation.
A clearer relationship can be inferred between Governor’s Beach and the Gibbs Cay
outpost. Gibbs Cay was occupied in the mid 13th century—at the same time as Governor’s
Beach. Moreover, the ceramics at Gibbs Cay are Meillacan, and other aspects of the material
assemblages are comparable. Gibbs Cay was also an intermittently-occupied beadmaking
venture, though the quantity of beads we recovered at Gibbs did not nearly approach the scale of
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the assemblage at Governor’s Beach. Although Gibbs Cay and Governor’s Beach are similar,
both temporally and materially, the exact sequence of this relationship remains unclear. Gibbs
Cay could have been one of several locations settled by the Hispaniolans—perhaps they
alternated their periodic visits between Governor’s Beach, Gibbs Cay, and/or GT-4. It is also
possible that Gibbs Cay, with its high redoubt and defensible terrain, was chosen as a protective
measure after their rout at Governor’s Beach. In any event, the sites are contemporaries, and
both appear to have been actively engaged in the same enterprise around the same time.
After Meillacan peoples abandoned Gibbs Cay around the turn of the 14th century, there
was no further settlement on or around Grand Turk. Some isolated Palmetto ware sherds at the
Waterloo site on the west coast just south of Governor’s Beach indicate that later peoples may
have visited the island, but the lack of any subsurface deposits suggests that the occupation was
fleeting (Keegan et al. 1994:7-8). Grand Turk seems to have been largely ignored from perhaps
AD 1280 until the Bermudan salt barons set up shop in the 17th century.
Evidence from the western Cotton Cay site CC-1 suggests that it was occupied during
this period because the ceramic assemblage is dominated by imported wares, which are probably
Meillacan. If so, then the site could be contemporaneous with Governor’s Beach, Gibbs Cay,
and perhaps GT-4. If so, then CC-1 may have been in the “rotation” with these sites as
Meillacan-affiliated groups from Hispaniola journeyed to the Turks Islands to manufacture beads
for export. Absent any excavated data, however, this hypothesis remains untested.
Lucayan Phase: circa AD 1300 to AD 1520 (1620?)
CC-2 was occupied during the Lucayan phase, and after Spanish contact. Excavations
revealed two distinct occupation horizons. The earlier Level 2 horizon included substantial
amounts of faunal material, especially fish bone, and an exclusively Palmetto ware ceramic
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assemblage. The data suggest a longer period of more intensive occupation than is typically
observed at Turks Island sites. There is no indication that the people who lived at CC-2 during
this period had regular contact with Hispaniola, which raises the possibility that they hailed from
elsewhere in the Bahama archipelago, and were drawn to Cotton Cay by local resources and the
lack of competition. The later Level 1 horizon was occupied in late prehistory and well into the
post-contact era. In this horizon, imported ceramics are found in context with Palmetto ware and
the remains of a dedicated beadmaking industry. I argue that the Level 1 horizon was settled by
Caicos-based residents of MC-6 and/or MC-32 who sought refuge on Cotton Cay to escape
Spanish slave raids and offset their flagging staple trade with Hispaniola by manufacturing beads
for export.
Salt Cay also appears to have been occupied during the Lucayan phase. Keegan et al.
identified two sites on the north coast of Salt Cay:
The first site, SC-1, is about 300 meters from Casuarina Cottages.
It measures about 40 m by 20 m. There is a light scatter of the
usual mollusk shells, firecracked limestone, and a small amount of
pottery. Four sherds were collected, three of which were decorated.
An olive shell pendant was also collected. The second site, SC-2,
is located to the east of SC-1 on the same ridge line and could
possibly be part of the same site. SC-2 is also 40 m wide by as
much as 400 m long. Again, the usual species of mollusk shell,
firecracked limestone, and Palmetto ware and import sherds were
observed. A small test unit recovered charcoal 60 cm below
surface in a dark anthrosol (1994:11).
We visited the Salt Cay sites on June 11, 2004 and found that SC-1 appeared exactly as
Keegan et al. describe. Yet we did not see anything remotely resembling his description of SC-
2. Rather, we observed that the area immediately east of SC-1 was devoid of cultural material.
Perhaps 50 meters beyond the eastern limit of SC-1, we encountered another small surface
scatter of fire-cracked limestone and mollusk shell, but no ceramics. This scatter also terminated
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as we moved further east. At that point we stopped looking, thinking we had identified both SC-
1 and SC-2. In sum, we did not observe a site some “400 m long,” but two small and rather
unremarkable surface scatters on a soil that was not appreciably darker than the surrounding
beach sand.
Initially I viewed the “400 m long” figure with no small measure of incredulity. After
further reflection, I now realize that such a figure is not unreasonable because the cultural
material could have been deposited in stages. If so, Keegan et al. are right and SC-1 and SC-2
are probably part of the same “site.” These intermittent scatters of limited cultural material most
likely reflect a series of periodic outposts established along this same stretch of beach over a
prolonged period of time. In aggregate, these outposts could leave a footprint that is hundreds of
meters long, even if it was deposited only 20 meters at a time over a period of decades or
centuries. MC-8/MC-10 on Middle Caicos seem to fit this model, as does PC-1 on Pine Cay in
the Caicos Islands and the Clifton site on New Providence in the Bahamas (Vernon 2008).
Because we did not excavate the sites, the question of when Salt Cay was occupied and
by whom remains open. The presence of decorated imported sherds suggests that the residents
had some ties to Hispaniola, but there is not enough specific information to determine what style
of pottery Keegan observed in 1993. Moreover, my team and I identified both Palmetto ware
and plain imported sherds in the light surface scatter at both sites, but none was diagnostic. Still,
some inferences are possible. A mixed import/Palmetto assemblage is most commonly found at
sites that postdate AD 1300, when Palmetto ware was ubiquitous in the Bahamas and Chican
ceramics became common in northern Hispaniola. Therefore, it is possible that the Salt Cay sites
were occupied at the same time as the Level 1 horizon of Cotton Cay. If so, then the sites could
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have been outposts of the major Caicos Islands sites, and may have been similarly engaged in
beadmaking. Again, more testing would be necessary to evaluate this hypothesis.
Activity Areas
Activity areas have no diagnostic material or distinct cultural affiliation. Although it is
not possible to place them in any of the phases described above, I include them here so my
review of Turks Islands archaeology is as thorough as possible.
Activity areas were identified on two of the outlying cays. Long Cay and Pinzon Cay are
southeast of Grand Turk and are two of the larger uninhabited cays on the Turks Bank. True
“sites” do not appear to have been established on these islands, although wave action could have
destroyed whatever evidence indigenous peoples left behind. All that remains on Long Cay is a
small conch pile situated adjacent to the lone beach on the island’s lee shore. We did not
discover any cultural material at this “Somewhere” activity area, but Brian Riggs, who told me
about the find, identified a single Palmetto sherd among the conchs during an earlier survey
(Keegan et al. 1994:9). The activity area on Pinzon Cay included some punched conch and a
ground limestone pestle. These items may not be prehistoric, but they were recovered in a
context that is theoretically associated with indigenous activity. The third and final activity area
in the Turks Islands is on the windward shore of Grand Turk, north of Eve’s Hill near
Masterson’s Point. In 1989 Keegan et al. identified a small pile of punched conch on the beach.
A shovel test dug near the top of the adjacent ridge yielded no cultural material. It is possible
that indigenous people deposited these shells, but the conch could also be from the historic
period (Keegan et al. 1990:10).
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Conclusion
It is important to note that all of the sites in the Turks Islands fit within the “outpost”
category of my classification scheme. The lack of any large-scale, permanently or semi-
permanently occupied sites in these islands suggests that the Turks Islands were always
peripheral to the main social and economic dynamic of the region. This fact transcends cultural
affiliation and time. Over the course of more than seven centuries, Ostionan-, Meillacan-, and
Chican/Palmetto-affiliated peoples all used the Turks Islands for more or less the same purpose:
short-term, seasonally-based exploitation of specific, locally available resources. This is not to
say that the Turks Bank was unimportant to indigenous peoples. Rather, it was simply less
critical to the overall settlement strategies than other parts of the southern Bahamas, such as the
Caicos Islands.
Why is this so? The answer lies in the morphology of the Turks Bank and the ecology of
the islands themselves. As discussed in Chapter 3, the Turks Bank is small and most of its seas
are rough. Reefs and reliably calm fishing areas are patchy and widely dispersed, which
dramatically curtails not only the availability but also the accessibility and predictability of
marine-based food resources. The islands themselves are also extremely dry. Even if
evaporation rates were lower when the pre-colonial ecologies of the islands included more
vegetation, the trade wind-driven rainfall patterns would still have limited precipitation to the
scant levels observed today. Fresh water would be quickly exhausted during the dry season, and
this resource would have taken time to recharge. In sum, the Turks Islands are simply too risky
for permanent habitation, particularly when far better alternatives lay only 50 km to the west. In
this regard, the old tourist axiom rings true: “It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live
there.” Thus the recurring pattern of short visits by multiple cultures for nearly a thousand years.
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Another interesting aspect of the Turks Island archaeological record is that small islands
always played a major role in indigenous settlement patterns. Of the nine sites in the Turks
Islands, only 4 are located on the largest island (Grand Turk) and one of these—Waterloo—may
be nothing more than an isolated Palmetto ware pot drop. The five remaining sites are all located
on smaller islands, including Salt Cay (674.42 hectares), Cotton Cay (112.52 hectares) and Gibbs
Cay (5.87 hectares) (Department of Environmental Planning and Statistics 2008b). This is
particularly remarkable given morphology of the bank, the overall dryness of the islands and
circumscribed nature of the marine resources. As such, the logistical challenges presented by
living on resource-deficient small cays on the Turks Islands would have been even more
substantial than those faced by residents of small cays in the comparatively wet and lush Caicos
Islands. Yet even in the Turks Islands, the benefits outweighed the costs. This suggests that if
people can survive—even for a short time—on small cays in the Turks Islands, then it would
have been comparatively easier to settle these environments in more salubrious parts of the
Bahama archipelago. In sum, the presence of small cay sites in the Turks Islands presents a
strong theoretical argument that small cay environments were always an important aspect of
indigenous settlement strategies across time and space.
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Table 4-1. The Gibbs Cay Ceramic Assemblage
PLAIN SHERDS Body Ct. Weight Rim Ct. Weight Total Ct. Total Wt.
Small (<2cm) 5 10 0 0 5 10
Medium (2-4 cm) 6 40 2 18 8 58
Large (>4cm) 3 73 0 0 3 73
Palmetto Ware 2 7 0 0 2 7
GRIDDLE
SHERDS Body Ct. Weight Rim Ct. Weight Total Ct. Total Wt.
Plain 0 0 0 0 0 0
Decorated 0 0 0 0 0 0
DECORATED
Small (<2cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
Medium (2-4 cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
Large (>4cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
18 148
Table 4-2 Gibbs Cay Unit Elevations (in cm below datum)

Unit NW SW SE NE C Average Depth (in cm below surface)
A Begin 26 26 15 13 20
End 57 63 62 59 63
Depth 31 37 47 46 43 41
B Begin 20 25 5 6 10
End 49 54 44 44 49
Depth 29 29 39 38 39 35
C Begin 21 15 13 7 16
End 53 50 50 48 51
Depth 32 35 37 41 35 36
D Begin 20 21 13 12 20
End 58 59 55 58 58
Depth 38 38 42 46 38 40
E Begin 29 28 11 17 22
End 62 61 61 61 61
Depth 33 33 50 44 39 40
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Table 4-3 Gibbs Cay Marine Invertebrate Remains
Large Mollusks MNI
< 10 cm 10-20 cm > 20 cm UID Pieces (l)
Strombus gigas 5 15 2 3 0.2 25
Pick Gouge Adze Scraper Hammer
Strombus gigas (tools) 2 0 0 0 1 3
Total Strombus gigas 28
< 4 cm 4-7 cm > 7 cm UID

Cittarium pica 40 58 27 1 0 126
Other Mollusks MNI

Nerita sp. 2
Oliva sp. 1
Chama sarda 4
Cymatium sp. 1
Cypraea zebra 1
Cymatium nicobaicum 1
Littorina sp. 4
Natica sp. 1
Chitons MNI
Acanthopleura
granulata 1
Corals Mass (g)

Acropora cervicornus 67
Solenastria sp. 15
Diploria sp. 1
Table 4-4 Radiocarbon dates from the Governor's Beach site. From Carlson (1999:144).
Calibrated Intercept Calibrated Age Range (2
Designation Material Age - B.P. Age sigma)
Beta 42983 Charcoal 830 +/- 80 AD 1215 AD 1004-1280
Beta 42985 Charcoal 820 +/- 50 AD 1219 AD 1041-1280
Beta 42984 Shell 1170 +/- 60 AD 1252 AD 1120-1330
Beta 42986 Shell 1080 +/- 50 AD 1307 AD 1250-1410
Beta 61150 Charcoal 910 +/- 60 AD 1070-1154 AD 1000-1260
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Table 4-5. The CC-02 Ceramic Assemblage
Small (<2cm) 1 1 0 0 1 1
Medium (2-4 cm) 1 3 0 0 1 3
Large (>4cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
GRIDDLE
Plain 0 0 0 0 0 0
DECORATED
Small (<2cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
Medium (2-4 cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
Large (>4cm) 0 0 0 0 0 0
23 73
Table 4-6 CC-02 Depth of Deposit by Unit

Unit Ending Depth (in cm below surface) Number of 20 cm Levels
1 12 1
2 26 2
3 32 2
4 28 2
5 28 2
6 35 2
7 37 2
8 19 1
9 5 1
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Table 4-7 Cotton Cay Marine Invertebrate Remains
Large Mollusks MNI
Strombus gigas 0 8 1 4 0.0 13
Pick Gouge Adze Scraper Hammer
Strombus gigas (tools) 2 0 0 0 2 4
< 4 cm 4-7 cm > 7 cm UID

Other Mollusks MNI

Oliva sp. 1
Chama sarda 1
Mass
Corals Abrader (g)
Acropora cervicornus
(raw) 295
Acropora cervicornus
(tool) 1 4
Acropora palmatta 6
Solenastria sp. 8
Diploria sp. 110
206
Figure 4-1. Satellite image of Gibbs Cay and site GC-1. Image created in Google Earth.
Figure 4-2. The Gibbs Cay beach. Grand Turk is in the background.
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Figure 4-3. North-facing view from the apex of Gibbs Cay. Note the island’s consistent
elevation.
Figure 4-4. Location of Gibbs Cay relative to Grand Turk. Note the mangrove forests associated
with the protected waters of South Creek. Image created in Google Earth.
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Figure 4-5. Overview map of the location of the Gibbs Cay site.
Figure 4-6. View of the site from the Gibbs Cay beach.
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Figure 4-7. View of the Gibbs Cay deposit eroding out of the steep slope.
210
Figure 4-8. Site plan of GC-1.
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Figure 4-9. Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at Gibbs Cay.
Figure 4-10. Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at Gibbs Cay.
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Figure 4-11. Vertical distribution of ceramics by unit at Gibbs Cay.
Figure 4-12. Horizontal distribution of ceramics by excavation level at Gibbs Cay.
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Figure 4-13. Bead blanks from Gibbs Cay.
Figure 4-14. Cotton Cay and the locations of CC-1 and CC-2. Image crated in Google Earth.
214
Figure 4-15. The natural rock wall on the windward eastern shore of Cotton Cay.
Figure 4-16. The remains of a fiberglass skiff washed atop the eastern, windward ridge.
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Figure 4-17. Salinas on the south side of CC-2. Note the abundance of sea grape.
Figure 4-18. Satellite view of the plantation era ruins on the western half of Cotton Cay. Image
created in Google Earth.
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Figure 4-19. CC-2 as viewed from the beach, with Meghan Beverung providing a sense of scale.
Figure 4-20. Satellite view of CC-2 and the associated salinas.
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Figure 4-21. Site plan of CC-2.
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Figure 4-22. Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at CC-2.
Figure 4-23. Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at CC-2.
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Figure 4-24. Vertical distribution of ceramics by unit at CC-2.
Figure 4-25. Horizontal distribution of ceramics by excavation level at CC-2.
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Figure 4-26. Some of the bead blanks from Cotton Cay.
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CHAPTER 5
ECONOMIC HUBS: THE MIDDLETON AND SPUD EXCAVATIONS
This chapter describes the excavations of the Middleton Cay and Spud sites on the Caicos
Bank. I begin this chapter with an overview of the sites and how they generally fit into
established models of Lucayan settlement patterns. This is to provide the reader with a
contextual feel for the sites before I delve into the specifics. Next, I discuss our work and my
interpretations of Middleton and Spud in detail. For each site, there is a “Data” and “Results”
section. The data section includes a physical description of the cay and the site. This includes
the basic details of the excavation: when it was conducted, how many units were excavated, how
the site is laid out, and so forth. The results section begins with a full accounting of each site’s
material assemblage and concludes with specific interpretations based on my analysis of the
excavated materials and the local context in which they were recovered. I conclude the chapter
by discussing how the sites integrate into the overall archaeology of the Caicos islands. These
interpretations are amalgamated into a broader discussion of indigenous activity in the Turks &
Caicos Islands in Chapter 7.
Overview
Introduction to Middleton and Spud
The relationship between Middleton and Spud was one of mutual economic and social
dependence. Middleton Cay’s position on the Caicos Bank provided access to abundant conch
resources, while Spud’s location on Long Cay afforded access to reef and pelagic fishes,
terrestrial staples like iguana, and arable land for manioc production. The sites also undoubtedly
maintained social alliances that ensured, among other things, access to an eligible spouse pool.
Because these sites are so closely intertwined, it is important to provide some background
theory on Lucayan settlement patterns and social relations before approaching the specifics of
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the excavations. This will add context to the discussion, and help the reader better comprehend
the broader significance of the particular data.
Indigenous Settlement Patterns in the Bahama Archipelago
Indigenous peoples did not randomly locate their major settlements in the Bahama
archipelago. Keegan calculated that 90% of prehistoric sites in the Bahama archipelago occur in
“settlement pairs”, which are defined as “sites that are situated within each other’s catchment
areas” (Keegan 1992:83). He calculated a site’s catchment area (the area from which food and
other necessities are obtained) as that space within a 1.5 km linear radius of the site, so that
“paired” settlements with overlapping catchment areas would be those within a distance double
that, or 3 km. However, the particular notion of what a “catchment area” means has evolved
since Keegan first described the settlement pair phenomenon. Today, researchers feel that linear
distance is not as suitable to define a site’s catchment area as is the time it takes to travel about it.
Keegan et al. (2008) used a figure of 1 hour of one-way travel time to model a site’s catchment
area boundaries. They assumed that this hour could be spent walking, or in the case of coastal
settlements, traveling by canoe. Columbus reported that Lucayan canoes were so fast “that there
was never a ship’s launch that could overtake [one] even if we had a big head start” (Dunn and
Kelley 1989:81) and estimated their speed at 6 knots (11km/h). Keegan et al. trimmed this
estimate by a fourth, to 8 km/h to be conservative. This means that any coastal site’s catchment
area would include all space within an 8 km radius, assuming the Lucayans could paddle there
(Keegan et al. 2008:639-640). Because “settlement pairs” are still basically defined as “sites that
are situated within each other’s catchment areas” (Keegan 1992:83), this effectively expands the
maximum distance between “paired” coastal sites to 16 km.
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As mentioned above, Middleton and Spud are separated by a mere 3.75 km of calm, open
water. This certainly places them within the 16 km parameters of the revised model of
settlement pairs. Interestingly, the 16 km figure also encompasses the Meillacan-era site on
Horse Cay, off the northern coast of South Caicos. Via a circuitous journey around the west end
of South Caicos, Horse Cay is only 9.3 km from Middleton and 8.3 km from Spud. Thus, it is
possible that these sites formed a “settlement triad” early in the sites’ histories. Moreover,
virtually all of South Caicos lay within the 8 km catchment area of all three sites. The
significance of these facts will be discussed in the final section of this chapter.
Now that the concept of settlement pairs has been defined, it is important to understand
the reasons behind the Lucayans’ strategy. Keegan argues that sites are clustered in a manner
designed to maximize resource extraction, maintain economic ties, and adhere to
matrilineal/matrilocal/exogamous social norms in the face of population growth:
The shift from widespread communities to settlement pairs can be

explained as resulting from population growth to a level at which
lineage membership was important for defining access to
productive resources. Under such conditions, males should attempt
to minimize their distance from their matrilineage’s corporate
usufruct…A slight spatial separation between the communities
provides the basis for controlling a larger territory, while allowing
men in both communities to observe the rule of exogamy and reside
matrilocally without leaving their village or natal territory.
Settlement pairs thus reflect social integration as an economic
strategy (1992:106-107).
Let us now examine how this pattern may have played out at Middleton and Spud. The
sites’ initial residents entered an environment in which food was bountiful and competition
almost non-existent (Keegan et al. 2008:640). Population growth is a natural corollary to these
circumstances. It would be driven by internal births as well as additional immigration as kinfolk
and new spouses were brought in and word of the area’s abundant resources reached Hispaniola
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via the ongoing trade relationship. As the community grew, the catchment area that once easily
sustained the initial population may come under pressure due to predation and the addition of
more mouths to feed. Thus it would be necessary to expand the range of foraging activities
simply because the catchment is too small to accommodate everyone. A neighboring small cay
would be a logical choice to establish an additional base of operations. Those who were “voted
off the island,” even if it were only seasonally, could continue to execute the same general
subsistence strategy. Socially, relocated individuals could practice exogamy by selecting a
spouse from the sister settlement rather than relying exclusively upon the homeland for
marriageable partners. This arrangement also satisfies the need to keep males near their
matrilines so that the social hierarchy—which determined men’s status and entitlement to their
slice of the economic pie—was not disrupted.
The Evolution of Social Complexity
According to island colonization theory, we should expect to observe evidence of social
complexity at Middleton and Spud. Elsewhere I have argued that any society which colonizes
islands must have some degree of social stratification simply because the island colonization
process requires specialized knowledge and organizational skills that are neither randomly nor
equally distributed among the population (Sinelli 2006). Because this “voyaging elite”
coordinate and execute all aspects of the colonization process, any colony that is appreciably
distant from its homeland will, by definition, include individuals of status among the population
from the onset.
The manner in which stratification evolves over time depends upon not only the nature of
the individual colony but also the status of the regional colonization effort. The earliest sites in
the Turks & Caicos were small-scale, temporary settlements established to exploit locally-
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available resources. Because these were populated by a circumscribed demographic group
(probably men) with a specific purpose in mind, they are less likely to display a great deal of
archaeological evidence of social complexity. Simply put, the occupants did not intend to stay
permanently so there was no need to carry all the trappings of power on what was purely a
“business trip.” Still, a degree of stratification within the colonizing society as a whole is
implied, and is indeed evidenced by a small number of items associated with “status” that have
been recovered from many of these temporary outposts. Although someone in Hispaniola
decided to establish the site, coordinated the effort, and directed the labor of others, someone had
to run the operation in the field. In any event, during this initial phase of colonization most of
the “status” as it was remained in Hispaniola and called the shots from there. The few status
items brought to the island outposts would legitimize the authority of those in charge of the
mission (i.e. the porcupinefish effigy vessel and shell trumpet recovered from the Governor’s
Beach site on grand Turk), and impose a degree of order upon the population during the time
they were away from the homeland.
Social stratification is manifest differently at later, larger, and more permanently
occupied sites like Middleton and Spud. These sites were still part of the original economic
strategy of long-distance exchange between the Turks & Caicos and Hispaniola, but the
relationship between these settlements had evolved beyond the early pattern of simple resource
extraction. Now, there were new players in the game. Long-distance exchange was no longer
under the exclusive control of high-status individuals in Hispaniola, but mediated between these
individuals and their counterparts residing on the Caicos Bank. This is not to say that the Caicos
settlements became autonomous or that the influence of the emerging Caicos elite extended
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beyond their immediate territory. Rather, I mean that the trade relationship was no longer
skewed entirely in favor of Hispaniolan settlements, but became more of a two-way street.
Controlling access to their end of the trade relationship afforded the emerging Caicos
elite a measure of power. As stewards of the local economy, they would have considerable
influence to allocate resources, both domestic and imported. They would decide what to prepare
for export and coordinate the labor of others to produce it. They would also control the manner
in which exotic items acquired in exchange were distributed among the residents. Very likely,
this control over the distribution network extended into the social realm as well. The emerging
elite would certainly have had input, if not control, over who was moving between the Caicos
Islands and Hispaniola, including new spouses and related kin. They would also direct the trade
voyages themselves. As such, it is probable that the “voyaging elite” who established the colony
are also the ones to consolidate authority as power increasingly shifted from Hispaniola toward
the Caicos settlements.
The social power of the emerging Caicos elite is reflected in the archaeological record,
both in terms of exotic materials recovered from the deposits and the allocation of physical space
within the sites themselves. There is clear evidence of social stratification at Middleton, and to a
lesser degree, at Spud. Although the sites seem to have been established almost simultaneously
around AD 1160 and were contemporaneous for hundreds of years, Middleton is the larger and
more complex site. It was probably permanently occupied, whereas activities at Spud may have
been semi-permanent and more focused on specific tasks. This is in line with Keegan’s
observation that “the communities involved are not simply equal pairs” and the emergence of
settlement pairs “thus appears to reflect the emergence of a dominant lineage or lineages”
(1992:107). As the reader will see, differences between the archaeological records of Middleton
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and Spud do indicate that each site was home to people with different social status. Most notable
is the presence of an oval-shaped, intentionally constructed plaza at Middleton that is abutted by
several house floors. Although we detected a central common area at Spud, it was far less
formalized. From this and other data, it seems as if the higher status lineage or lineages resided
at Middleton while lower-status lineage or lineages worked at Spud.
Keegan observed that large-scale “long-distance exchange would have required the
participation of a chief…whose power and influence extended beyond the community in which
he resided” (1992:110). Even though he was analyzing patterns of trade at a late Lucayan
settlement on Acklins Island northwest of the Turks & Caicos, I believe that the idea may be
profitably applied to the case of Middleton and Spud. Only a chief could muster the labor
resources of males from other lineages who resided in a different settlement to execute the trade
with Hispaniola that so clearly persisted throughout the sites’ histories. Therefore, I argue that
Middleton and Spud represent the earliest evidence of chieftaincy in the Turks & Caicos islands.
Now I will evaluate this hypothesis in light of the excavated evidence.
Middleton Cay
Data
Physical description of Middleton Cay
Middleton Cay is in the open water of the Caicos Bank 4.75 km west-southwest of the
harbor at Cockburn Town, South Caicos (Figure 5-1). It is a true bank island in that there are no
fringing reefs or deep water in the vicinity. The water is rarely more than 2 m deep anywhere in
the immediate area, and for the most part it is possible to wade a considerable distance from the
island itself. The nearest blue water habitat is more than 6 km to the east, beyond Long Cay and
South Caicos. Today the island is shaped like a rough triangle with a maximum base of 350
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meters, a maximum height of 250 meters, and a total area of 4.83 hectares (Department of
Economic Planning and Statistics 2008b). However, relic beach rock along a 1-3 meter high
ridge that bisects the island along a meandering north-south axis indicates that Middleton Cay
was smaller when it was occupied by indigenous peoples (Figure 5-2). Over the intervening
centuries sand and sediment has accumulated in the island’s lee, so that Middleton Cay has
gradually grown to the west. This area is flat and sandy, and sits no more than 50 cm above the
high water mark. This feature is quite similar to the triangular-shaped beach we observed in the
lee of Gibbs Cay (see Chapter 5) and was probably formed by the same processes. This
hypothesis is bolstered by the fact that we observed no prehistoric cultural material in the flat
area west of the relic beach.
There is evidence that the area west of the ridge is periodically inundated. We observed
debris accumulated at the western base of the relic beach rock ridge that could only have been
deposited by wave action. Middleton Cay is well protected by South Caicos and Long Cay from
storms that approach from the east and southeast, as most tropical cyclones in this part of the
Atlantic tend to do. However the lack of any appreciable land mass to the south and west of
Middleton Cay makes the island quite vulnerable to tempests that approach from these
directions. While such storms are rare, they do occur later in the season. From late September
through the end of Hurricane season on November 30, storms are most likely to form in the
warm waters of the eastern Caribbean Sea. These can be steered to the northeast and east by
seasonal fronts that pass southward through the continental United States (National Hurricane
Center 2009a). The most recent storms to take this track were Hurricane Paloma in November
2008 and Hurricane Michele in October and November 2001 (National Hurricane Center 2009b).
Although neither tempest directly struck the Turks & Caicos, these patterns make it clear that
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Middleton Cay has been as vulnerable to hurricane activity as any other island in the region in
spite of its protected location on the Caicos Bank.
The Middleton Cay that the Indians knew was more oval in shape and measured 350
meters long by 110 to 140 meters wide. The island is highest in the center, where the ridge
reaches a maximum elevation of about 3 meters. From the apex the landscape slopes gently
downward as one moves north, east, or south. The northern, eastern, and southern areas are all
relatively flat and lie a meter or so above the high water line. To the west, the ridge forms a cliff
of varying steepness that is 3 meters high at its maximum. There seems to have been a
prehistoric beach at the base of the cliff, abutting the ridgeline on the lee shore—the terrain
slopes gently from the base of the ridge before bottoming out in the leeward flat area that has
accumulated more recently. There are no salinas on the island, but a small tidal basin that may
or may not have been present in prehistory abuts a tiny sandy beach on the island’s northern tip.
The remaining coastline is ironstone, which wraps around from the northern beach all the way to
the southwestern tip of the cay.
There is a lot of evidence of historic activity on and around Middleton Cay. One of the
first things one notices while approaching the island are the conch piles. They are enormous! At
least 31 conch piles jut out of the island like quays at a modern port (Figure 5-2). Most of these
are located on the island’s southwest shore. Some are 40 meters long, 15 wide, and 2 to 3 high
(Figure 5-3). Dozens of smaller piles also lie out in the shallow water (Figure 5-4)—there must
be tens of millions of conch shells in all. These are monuments to both the tremendous
productivity of the Caicos Bank conch fishery and the collective effort of many generations of
local fishermen to exploit it. Indeed, the conch piles grow by the day. We observed fishermen
shelling conch and pitching the shells onto some pile or another on several occasions during our
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work on the island. Perhaps unsurprisingly, there is evidence that people have visited Middleton
to harvest the conch shells as well. We observed more than a dozen old fire pits in which conch
had been burned, presumably to extract the lime for historic construction on South Caicos
(Figure 5-5). Fortunately this activity was concentrated in the flat area west of the ridge, so we
did not encounter any disturbance to the site itself. Only a handful of the island’s coastal conch
piles are located on the settled part of the island, and none of these impacted the deposits.
Middleton Cay is part of the Admiral Cockburn Nature Reserve along with Long Cay and
Six Hills Cays. The goal of the preserve is to facilitate “Ecosystem and biological conservation
with recreation as a low-key secondary goal” (Department of Environment and Coastal
Resources 2007). Consequently, the plants and animals in the preserve are protected by law.
The vegetation of Middleton Cay is quite similar to that of nearby Long Cay: mangrove stands
dot the lee coastlines, while mixed hardy grasses, sea grape, cactus, and other succulents find
root among the rocks and shallow soils. There are no trees on Middleton Cay, but the vegetation
is not as stunted as on other cays to windward. This is likely a product of the island’s sheltered
location. While it is typically breezy, there are no large waves so salt spray is not much of an
issue. Unfortunately, we did not observe a great deal of wildlife on Middleton Cay. We
encountered the occasional seabird, a handful of small lizards, and a curious barracuda during
our lunchtime swims, but little else. This came as a complete surprise, for I had heard that
Middleton Cay supported a thriving iguana population. Keegan described his experience there:
“When Bob Gascoine took me to Middleton Cay in 1998, I found that the island was literally
crawling with iguanas (Cyclura carinata), despite its proximity to South Caicos” (2007:161).
Yet only 6 years later, we did not observe a single animal. If any were there, we would have
seen them. We spent a week on the island and explored every nook and cranny of it, so it
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appears that they have been wiped out. Iguanas are extremely vulnerable to extirpation. It is
conceivable that some cats reached the island and decimated the population, although we did not
see any or encounter any evidence of them during our work there. Nor did we observe any
iguana carcasses or bones on the surface, which one would expect if the iguanas were killed and
eaten on the island by feral animals. It is also possible that humans are to blame. Even though it
is illegal, it would seem that people clandestinely removed them for food. Whatever the cause,
Middleton Cay is largely lifeless today. Even its millions of conch are dead.
Description of the Middleton Cay site
The Middleton site covers a substantial portion of the original island (Figure 5-6). There
were two settlement areas on either side of the relic beach. Habitation 1 is smaller and measures
75 meters long by 30 to 60 meters wide. It is situated to the south of the relic beach in a lower
area west of the central ridge. Habitation 2 is much larger and covers almost half of Middleton
Cay. It measures 180 meters long and between 115 and 50 meters wide. The widest and most
densely occupied portion of Habitation 2 is at the northern end of the island, bordered by the
relic beach and the central ridge on the south, the sea to the west and east, and the tidal flat to the
north. The southern portion of Habitation 2 tapers down to 50 meters wide as the site moves up
the slope toward the apex of the ridge. The amount of cultural material on the surface also tapers
off as one proceeds uphill. The apex of the ridge consists primarily of exposed limestone and
rocks with little soil, which suggests that this part of the site was not habitation area per se, even
though a light scatter of mollusks was observed. No cultural material was observed on the
southern flank of the ridge, even though that area is adjacent to Habitation 1. Apparently,
settlement on the south side of Middleton Cay was confined to the lower area west of the ridge.
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Middleton has an enormous fossil midden adjacent to the water on the leeward coast of
the site. It follows the crescent shape of the shoreline for a distance of 130 meters. The fossil
midden ranges between 6 and 13 meters wide (average width = 9m) and is between 50 and 100
cm thick (Figure 5-7, Figure 5-8). Cultural material is embedded in the beach rock throughout
the length of the midden (Figure 5-9 through Figure 5-13). This includes many conch shells,
imported ceramics, fire-cracked limestone, and Palmetto ware. This cultural material is found
throughout the entire depth of the fossil midden. Material is visible on the exposed surface as
well as in the wall of the deposit where the midden terminates at the water. Some of the material
at the bottom of this wall is inundated at high tide, and in many cases sits adjacent to mollusks
that have affixed themselves to the surrounding matrix.
The significance of the fossil midden cannot be overstated. It offers the clearest evidence
that Middleton Cay was permanently or semi-permanently occupied by a large population for a
long period of time. When the site was first established, the residents piled up their refuse
directly on the sandy beach. Over time as the midden grew, the lower layers became fossilized
into the solid matrix that survives today. At some point, wave action washed away the upper
layers of the midden so that only the lithified base remained. Even though the upper layers of
the deposit have been destroyed, the fossil remnant is enormous by local archaeological
standards. Multiplying its 130 meters of length by its average width of 9 meters and average
depth of 0.75 meters produces an estimated volume of 877.5 cubic meters! No other site in the
region has a midden as large as the one that remains at Middleton. This fact is particularly
striking when one considers that the remnant is but a fraction of what the deposit originally
looked like before the upper layers were washed away.
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Thus far I may have given the reader an impression that indigenous peoples were packed
ear to ear onto virtually every inch of Middleton Cay. However I do not believe that was the
case. The measurements and observations I used to describe the site and complete the map in
Figure 5-6 are based on the extent of surface scatter, not subsurface deposits. In fact, subsurface
deposits are more circumscribed at the site: the richest deposits are in the northern half of
Habitation 2 and on the western side of Habitation 1. The surface scatter is far more extensive
and occasionally occurs in places that one would not expect it to be. Sometimes the surface
scatter was observed directly on exposed limestone, particularly in the southernmost region of
Habitation 2 that lies up on the ridge. These were likely deposited by wave action that destroyed
the upper layers of the fossil midden and washed some of the contents about the site.
Excavation details
Even before I set foot on the island I believed that Middleton was one of the archetypical
“small cay” sites. My informal discussions with Brian Riggs, Bill Keegan, and others who had
been there led me to expect something remarkable. Consequently, I organized the entire South
Caicos leg of the field school around our excavations there. We visited Middleton Cay on seven
calendar days in May 2004. All eleven of us worked there on May 18, 19, 20. Brian Riggs
joined the crew on May 27 and 28. On May 21 six students worked under Geoff DuChemin
while I led three students on the surveys of Long Cay and Moxie Bush. On May 26 we all
worked the site for half a day after some brief work at Dove Cay. In total, we spent 69.5 person-
days excavating and mapping Middleton.
We completed 47 subsurface units at the site. For clarity’s sake, I have broken these out
by type below. At the end of this section I will pull all of these details together to summarize my
excavation strategy into a chronological timeline of how the excavations progressed.
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Formal units. We completed 8 excavation Units, designated “A” through “G”. Units C
and F were located Habitation 1, the remaining Units were situated in Habitation 2 (Figure 5-14).
With two exceptions, all of the Units were 1 x 1 meter square—Unit D was 1 x 2 meters, and
Unit E 2 x 2 meters. Each excavation unit was divided into 10 cm levels. All units were
excavated by trowel and brush. Most of the matrix was screened through ¼ inch hardware mesh,
although Geoff DuChemin retained some column samples from Unit E for 1/8 and 1/16 inch fine
screen faunal analysis. Geoff pre-screened these samples through ¼ inch mesh in the field to
identify non-faunal material such as pottery, which he removed and bagged along with the rest of
the material we recovered from that provenience. Every unit except Unit B and Unit C were
excavated to bedrock or sterile soil. These two units were not very productive, so we bisected
them and only excavated half of the unit to bedrock or sterile soil. Unit B was bisected after
Level 1 was completed and the southern half was excavated to bedrock at Level 2. Unit C was
bisected after Level 2 was completed and the eastern half was excavated to bedrock at Level 4.
Shovel tests. We completed a series of 20, 25-cm round shovel tests to both identify
promising subsurface deposits and determine the extent of the site (Figure 5-15). The transect
began at the southwest corner of Unit A and proceeded due south. We strung a line some 70
meters southward and anchored it when necessary to stakes or available vegetation. At a point
exactly 20 meters south of the southwest corner of Unit A, we erected a second line of
comparable length on a precise east-west bearing. The intersection of the two lines served as the
datum point for the shovel test grid. We affixed flagging tape to the line every 5 meters and
labeled the tape with coordinates. The datum at the intersect was given designation 0N/0E,
which meant “Zero meters north of the datum and zero meters east of the datum”. The next
point 5 meters east of there was labeled 0N/5E, the next 0N/10E, and so on in every direction.
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When we dug shovel tests that were not directly on a line (for example, 30S/10E), we took
precise measurements and compass bearings to ensure the integrity of our sampling method.
While digging, we would pause after every screen load to measure the depth of the hole.
Although these measurements are not as precise as those obtained from trowel-excavated units,
they did provide a good feel for where things were located in the deposit. A student recorded
what came out of every screen and noted the depth at which that screen load of matrix originated.
All shovel tests were dug to either bedrock or sterile soil. Of these, 8 were positive and produced
evidence of a subsurface deposit. These data were a tremendous help and guided the placement
of several large, formal Units.
Test units. Finally, we executed a series of 50 x 50 cm test units specifically to evaluate
Middleton’s oval-shaped plaza. The plaza is situated on the eastern side of Habitation 2,
approximately 15 meters from the ironstone that forms the island’s eastern shore (Figure 5-16).
When I formulated the plaza’s excavation strategy, my primary objective was to see if the feature
was indeed different from the surrounding areas, and if so, how.
I established a transect on a precise north-south bearing down the long axis of the plaza.
As before, we ran a line down the transect and marked the appropriate places with flagging tape.
This time, I set the units at 3 meter intervals. The northern end of the transect served as the
datum point for the grid. Test Unit 1 was placed at the foot of the datum. From there, additional
test units were placed every 3 meters. Because the plaza is 21 meters long, there were 8 test
units along the transect itself. Test Units 5 and 6 near the center of the plaza showed some
disturbance in the soils. Consequently I arrayed 11 more Test Units in a grid pattern around this
area, for a total of 19 across the entire feature (Figure 5-17).
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Excavation chronology. We spent most of the first two days testing the site to
understand its extent and layout. As mentioned above, the surface scatter was everywhere and
this led us down several blind alleys. On May 18, our first day, we set up three 1 x 1 meter units.
Units A and B were situated on dense surface scatter on the western side of Habitation 2. These
are the closest units to the fossil midden—that is probably why there was so much surface
scatter. Unit C was situated atop a mound in the center of Habitation 1, also in an area of dense
surface scatter. We did not open this unit right away—we left it after it had been set up and
focused our attention to Habitation 2 and Units A and B.
Units A and B were not very productive beneath the surface. Unit B in particular was so
dull that I decided to bisect the unit after Level 1 and only excavate half of the rest of it. It
wound up petering out at Level 2 anyway. Unit A was somewhat more productive, so we
excavated that entire unit to bedrock. Even before Units A and B were complete it became
obvious that the main deposit lay elsewhere. I then decided not to open any more units based on
surface features but to instead try to identify where the deposits were via a series of shovel tests.
Not wanting to discount Unit A entirely, I elected to base the shovel test grid off of its
southwestern corner, as described above.
We started the shovel tests on May 19 while a few students wrapped up Units A and B
and others completed the transects. We dug 10 shovel tests that day, beginning at the transect
datum 0N/0E, which was positioned 20 meters south of Unit A. As luck would have it, we hit a
subsurface deposit on our first try, and recovered fish bones, cracked conch, and fire cracked
limestone to a depth of 90 cm below the surface. As we moved north and east, we found that the
deposit continued in those directions, especially to the east. Unique features revealed by shovel
test 0N/5E, 0N/15E, and 0N/20E led me to open formal Units there. I situated the 1 x 2 meter
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Unit D so that its northwest corner abutted the southern end of shovel test 0N/5E, and placed the
2 x 2 meter Unit E directly on the transect line equidistant from shovel tests 0N/15E and 0N/20E.
On May 21 I sent a small group back to Habitation 1 to open Unit C and test that area of
the site. Levels 1 and 2 of Unit C were unremarkable so we bisected the unit and only finished
excavating the eastern half of it. The lower levels were little different from the upper. I asked
the three students who were working Habitation 1 where they thought we should look next.
They had already identified an area about 5 meters from Unit C that they thought might be a
midden, so I let them have at it. They opened Unit F on the afternoon of May 21 but only
completed Level 1 by quitting time.
As it turned out we would not return to Middleton for five days. Because the team had
been digging in the field for six of the previous seven days, I had already planned a lab day and
some well deserved downtime for the 22nd. That evening before dinner we shuttled out to Dove
Cay for a recreational snorkel and a quick survey, at which time Winn Phillips discovered the
“twin pot.” The weather on the 23rd dawned clear enough for the short trip to Dove Cay to begin
test excavations (See Chapter 6), but we had to leave before lunch as the weather deteriorated.
The remainder of that day was a complete rainout, as was the 24th. Skies cleared somewhat on
the 25th, but it was too windy to safely leave the harbor. We took advantage of the dry but
blustery weather and surveyed Iguana Cay and Horse Cay by truck and wade. Finally, on May
26th conditions were suitable to return to the field. We resumed work at Dove Cay, but finding
that unproductive, returned to Middleton after lunch to continue our analysis there.
That afternoon the team that had started Unit F in Habitation 1 returned to complete the
unit. The rest of the team and I set about identifying additional deposits to sample in Habitation
2. During our excavation hiatus I had carefully reviewed my field notes, which had given me a
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few ideas. Based on the material we recovered from Unit E, that area seemed to be associated
with a structure, perhaps even the floor itself. I designated this feature the E structure. I wanted
to explore this feature, so as soon as we returned to Middleton, I literally crawled through the
underbrush surrounding this unit to see if an associated household midden was present. I did not
find one, but as I was standing there, thinking and trying to decide what to do next, I was
suddenly struck by how close the E structure was to a big, open patch of grass only 8 meters
southeast of the unit. I had noticed this area on the first day, but because it was mostly sterile
sand with little surface scatter I never paid much attention to it. As I walked around the grass
patch anew with our preliminary Unit E excavation results in mind, it finally hit me: this was a
plaza, and the E structure was situated directly adjacent to it.
I instructed the team to search for more structures adjacent to the plaza while I and
another student delineated and measured the plaza. The plaza is clearly visible, even to the
untrained eye. A patch of calf-high scrubby grass forms a clear oval shape and provides stark
contrast to the surrounding vegetation, which is higher, denser, and more diverse (Figure 5-18).
Several large, flat limestone boulders abut the plaza’s eastern side. Moreover, the interior of the
plaza is virtually clean—there are no small rocks on the surface.
We identified two more potential structure floors north of the plaza in addition to the Unit
E structure. We eventually named these the G structure and the H structure according to the
designation of the units we would later open up there. In contrast to the E structure, which is not
plainly apparent, these features are clearly visible circular-shaped areas in which mostly grass
was growing that were almost completely devoid of rocks (Figure 5-19, Figure 5-20). The G
structure is located near the northern end of the plaza. The H structure is situated a few meters to
the northeast of the G structure, further away from the plaza. A detailed search of the area
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around these features revealed that both had associated household middens. The G structure also
had a large pile of small rocks directly on its periphery between the house floor and its household
midden (Figure 5-20). These undoubtedly were piled there as the area was swept clean and
prepared as the structure was erected. We laid out Units H and G on the two structures’
household middens at the end of our afternoon visit to Middleton. While all of this was
happening in Habitation 2, the team at Habitation 1 completed Unit F. We left for home feeling
quite satisfied with a highly productive day, and eager to return the next morning.
Brian Riggs arrived at South Caicos that evening for a three day visit. He accompanied
us to Middleton when we returned the next day on the morning of the 27th. I assigned half of the
team to excavate Units G and H while the rest of us erected the transect on the plaza and began
the series of 50 x 50 cm Test Units. We returned on the 28th to complete the plaza excavations,
backfill, and map the site. That concluded our work at Middleton. In total, we had amassed 48
field specimen proveniences from our excavations. Those proveniences from formal Units
correspond to 10 cm levels. Each positive shovel test and Test Unit was assigned a single FS
number.
Results
Overview. Our excavations produced 300 sherds weighing a combined 1,357 grams
(Table 5-1). Imported ceramics dominated the overall assemblage. Imports accounted for 71.7%
of the assemblage in terms of number of sherds (Figure 5-22) and 70.2% of the assemblage by
weight (Figure 5-23). Palmetto ware accounted for 28.3% of the sherds by number and 29.8%
by weight. Because interpretations based on sherd count alone can be skewed by an over-
abundance of “small” sherds (those less than 2 cm across which weigh no more than a few
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grams), I will focus on the overall vertical and horizontal distribution of the Middleton ceramic
assemblage by weight. Still, I will also use sherd count as a mode of analysis when speaking of
smaller subsets of the total ceramic assemblage, e.g., for particular Units, features, or habitation
areas. This will help identify specific, localized activities that occurred at various times
throughout the site’s history.
Vertical distribution. Every Unit A-H yielded ceramic material, as did 4 of the 8
positive shovel tests and 7 of the 19 plaza Test Units (Figure 5-24). There are clear tendencies in
the data which are best discussed in terms of where the units were positioned at the site.
Therefore I have broken down the vertical distribution into Habitation 1 and Habitation 2. For
Habitation 2, I break it out further by exploring clear trends in the ceramic assemblages that are
associated with various features we identified in this area. Diagnostic or otherwise “interesting”
sherds will also be discussed in the vertical distribution section.
Units C and F were located in Habitation 1. Imported ceramics dominated the Habitation
1 assemblage, accounting for 41 of the 45 sherds by number (Figure 5-25) and 152 of the 164
grams by weight (Figure 5-26). The majority of this material (36 sherds weighing 110 grams)
was recovered from Unit C. Four small Palmetto ware sherds weighing a combined 12 grams
were also recovered from this unit. Unit F did not yield any Palmetto Ware and only contributed
5 imported sherds weighing 42 grams to the Habitation 1 assemblage. All but 3 of the imported
sherds were plain body sherds. One small, undecorated, rim sherd with a flat top was identified,
as was a small punctated sherd and part of an inturned shoulder sherd that may have come from a
red-slipped vessel. The Palmetto ware sherds were small, fragmentary body sherds that bore no
decoration.
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As discussed above, we spent most of our time exploring the Habitation 2 area at
Middleton. Here is where the shovel tests, plaza Test Units, and formal units A, B, D, E, G, and
H were located. Interestingly, there are marked differences in the ceramic assemblages
recovered from these units. There are clear trends based upon where the units were situated and
which features are nearby. These trends remain whether one examines the ceramic assemblage
by sherd count (Figure 5-27) or weight (Figure 5-28). The first trend was identified around the E
structure and the shovel test transect. This includes all of the positive shovel tests and Units D
and E, which lay on the transect and were situated to explore deposits identified by the shovel
tests. A second trend was identified around structures G and H. This includes also Unit A which
lay just west of these structures. The third and final trend emerged within the plaza itself. I
discuss the results we obtained from each of these areas in turn below.
Before I begin the discussion of the three trends, it is important to note from the outset
that Unit B is an outlier, both spatially and in terms of the ceramic assemblage. This
dissimilarity is probably due to its close proximity to the fossil midden. Recall that this unit was
extremely shallow and the least productive formal Unit we excavated at Middleton. Because the
material we recovered in Unit B was possibly washed in from the midden, the integrity of the
provenience data we obtained for the its ceramics is questionable. Therefore I will discuss it in
general terms at the end and not speculate on its relationship to other areas of Habitation 2.
One clear trend emerged around the E structure. This area includes 4 shovel tests and
Units D and E. Imported ceramics overwhelmingly dominated the ceramic assemblage obtained
from this part of the site. We recovered a total of 141 sherds weighing a combined 643 grams
from the E structure area, of which 133 (94.3%) weighing a combined 578 grams (89.9%) were
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from imported vessels. Only 8 Palmetto ware sherds weighing a combined 65 grams were
identified. Clearly, the people who lived in this area used imported ceramics almost exclusively.
Shovel test 0N/0E sits at the transect datum and was the first one we dug. It yielded 3
undecorated, imported body sherds within 20 cm below surface (cmbs). Another sherd
manufactured from the orange, chalky paste typical of Chican bottles was also recovered from
this depth. Shovel test 5S/0E produced 16 imported sherds weighing 68 total grams. Most of
these were recovered within 20 cmbs, although several were recovered in sterile-looking light,
sandy soils between 50 and 60 cmbs. Notably, a rim sherd from a navicular (boat-shaped)
vessel, decorated with the classic wet-clay, crosshatch design of the Meillacan subseries was
found between 30 and 35 cmbs (Figure 5-29). Several sherds with an unusual chalky white paste
were also identified in this shovel test. Shovel test 10N/0E produced two small, undecorated,
imported body sherds in grey anthrosol at 50-55 cmbs. Finally, shovel test 0N/15E produced
two decorated Meillacan sherds at 20-25 cmbs. The first weighed only 2 grams and was
decorated with a wet-clay fine line crosshatch design. The second was a large rim sherd
weighing 44 grams, decorated with a wet-clay vertical parallel incised line design and an
appliqué ridge on the interior of the rim (Figure 5-30). No Palmetto ware was recovered in any
of the shovel tests.
Units D and E were situated on the transect adjacent to promising shovel tests. Although
Unit D was initially located by 0N/5E to explore a non-ceramic subsurface feature, it still yielded
a wealth of ceramic material—64 sherds in total, weighing a combined 333 grams. Of the 64
sherds, 57 weighing a combined 303 grams were from imported vessels. All but 7 of these were
plain body sherds. Among the 7 were 5 undecorated rim sherds. Three of these exhibited a flat
rim top, one a rounded rim top, and the final rim sherd appears to be from a wide, shallow bowl.
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Two small decorated sherds bearing round punctations were also observed. Finally, 7 Palmetto
ware sherds weighing a combined 30 grams were present. One medium rim sherd with a beveled
top was among these. The remainder were small, undecorated body sherds.
Unit E was situated on the transect between shovel tests 0N/15E and 0N/20E because
these tests yielded Meillacan ceramics and a drilled bead blank, respectively, between 20 and 35
cmbs. Unit E yielded 53 mostly small sherds weighing a total of 172 grams. Of these, 46 were
plain imported body sherds. Two of these had been drilled, presumably in an effort to bind a
crack and extend the life of the vessel, but the drilled sherds themselves do not cross-mend. Six
decorated imported sherds were also present. Each was decorated with punctations but not all of
the punctations were executed in the same manner. Two sherds had a single row of similar oval-
shaped impressions that appear to have been made with a bone stylus. These do not cross-mend
but are probably from the same vessel. A third sherd has triangular-shaped impressions as if the
stylus was inserted into the wet clay at a downward angle. Finally, three sherds have two rows
of very large (6mm) round impressions. These also do not cross-mend but are probably from the
same vessel, which may have also had a red slip on the exterior. Finally, Unit E produced a
single, large Palmetto ware sherd. The sherd was extremely friable, and interestingly, recovered
well below the Unit’s imported ceramics. The potential significance of this find will be
discussed in the ceramic assemblage Analysis section below.
A second trend emerged around the G and H structures. This includes Units A, G, and H.
In this part of Habitation 2, Palmetto ware dominated the ceramic assemblage. We recovered a
total of 94 sherds weighing a combined 461 grams from the G and H structures area, of which 70
(74.5%) weighing a combined 324 grams (70.3%) were from Palmetto ware vessels. Only 24
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imported sherds weighing a combined 137 grams were identified. Even though this area is less
than 20 meters from the E structure, the ceramic assemblage is completely different.
Unit A was located west of structures G and H and does not lie on either of their
household middens. Unit A produced 42 total sherds weighing a combined 211 grams. Of these
32 sherds weighing 158 grams were Palmetto ware. All of the Palmetto sherds were plain body
sherds of various sizes, although one was mat-marked. Notably, this sherd is not from a griddle
but a vessel—it is too convex and too thin. The remaining 10 sherds weighing 53 grams were
from imported vessels. Six of these were plain body sherds, and two were griddle sherds—
strangely, the only griddle sherds of any kind we recovered at the entire site. The remaining two
imported sherds were rims. One was a nondescript plain rim with a flat top, and the other was a
thin plain rim that may have come from a navicular vessel. This sherd may have also been
decorated with a row of small punctations, but the breakage pattern makes it difficult to
determine if the indentation was part of the design or simply where a piece of temper had fallen
out after deposition.
Unit G was positioned on the household midden associated with the G structure. This
Unit produced 21 sherds weighing a combined 99 grams. Palmetto ware accounted for 14 sherds
weighing 72 grams. Three of these were rim sherds, while 11 were plain body sherds. Two of
the rims displayed a flat rim top; the third a interiorly-beveled rim top. Seven imported sherds
weighing 27 grams round out the Unit G assemblage. Five of these were plain body sherds, but
of these one was red-slipped and another white-slipped. The remaining two imports were plain,
flat-topped rims.
Unit H was situated on the household midden associated with the H structure. This Unit
produced 31 sherds weighing a combined 151 grams. Palmetto ware accounted for 24 of the
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sherds weighing 94 grams. Twenty were plain body sherds and 4 were rims. Two of the rims
had a flat rim top, and two a interior-beveled rim top. There were 7 imported sherds weighing a
combined 57 grams. Five were plain body sherds. One displayed a white slip, and another was
white slipped on one side and red-slipped on the other. The remaining 2 sherds were both highly
decorated. The first was a medium rim sherd with the engraved, curved incised lines typical of
the Chican subseries. The second was a large rim sherd with an appliqué lug also typical of the
Chican subseries (Rouse 1939:199,Plate 3), (Figure 5-31).
The third and final trend was identified in the plaza. This includes all of the 50 x 50 cm
Test Units 1-19. In this part of Habitation 2, there was very little ceramic material at all. We
excavated 1,235 liters of matrix from all of the Test Units combined, yet only 13 sherds
weighing a total of 60 grams were recovered. Remarkably, all of these were from imported
vessels—there was no Palmetto ware at all.
Seven of the 19 Test Units produced ceramics. Test Unit 1 yielded 2 plain body sherds
weighing 10 grams and a single decorated rim sherd weighing 4 grams. This sherd had a beveled
top and bore the distinctive wet-clay crosshatch design of the Meillacan subseries. Test Unit 2
contained 2 plain body sherds weighing 10 grams. Test Unit 3 contained 2 plain body sherds
weighing only 4 grams, and Test Unit 6 had a single plain body sherd of 10 grams. Test Unit 10
contained 1 very small plain body sherd at 1 gram, and a 3 gram decorated body sherd with a
Meillacan wet-clay incised, parallel-line design. Test Unit 13 produced a single plain body sherd
of 2 grams. Finally, Test Unit 14 contained 2 decorated body sherds weighing a combined 17
grams. One sherd was decorated with the classic Meillacan wet-clay crosshatch design, and the
second with a wet-clay parallel line and curvilinear incised line motifs (Figure 5-32) typical of
the Chican subseries (Rouse 1939:200,Plate 4).
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Lastly we come to Unit B. This Unit was situated in a more isolated area in which
provenience is less certain, so I do not include it among any of the three trends discussed above.
In any event, the data from Unit B are far from spectacular. It produced only 7 sherds weighing
29 grams. Four sherds weighing 25 grams were imports, the remaining 3 sherds weighing 4
grams were small bits of nondescript Palmetto ware. Three of the imports were undecorated
body sherds, but the remaining imported sherd was a punctated rim. The impressions were long
and narrow ovals, as if the stylus had been inserted at a 45 degree downward angle. Moreover,
the stylus appears to have been a stick or reed as striations are clearly visible in the impressions,
perhaps resulting from a rough edge as the implement was pushed into the wet clay. This is
another example of the variety of ways in which punctations were executed by Hispaniolan
potters.
To summarize, the vertical distribution of ceramics at Habitation 2 breaks out into three
clear trends. First, the ceramics from the E structure area are almost exclusively imported.
Second, the ceramics from the G and H structure areas are predominantly Palmetto ware.
Finally, the plaza area has virtually no pottery at all, although each one of the few sherds
recovered happens to be from an imported vessel. These data clearly point to how the site was
organized. These interpretations will be discussed in detail in the ceramic assemblage Analysis
section below.
Horizontal distribution. Recall that the shovel tests and plaza Test Units were each
assigned a single FS provenience. Because we did not collect specific depth data for these, it is
not possible to include the sherds recovered in these contexts into an analysis of the horizontal
distribution of the Middleton ceramic assemblage. Therefore this part of the data only includes
Units A-H, which were all excavated by arbitrary 10 cm levels. Even so, material from these
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Units account for the vast majority of the assemblage. Units A-H yielded 263 of the 300 sherds
(87.7%) weighing 1,159 of the 1357 grams (85.4%) of ceramics we recovered at Middleton. I
begin this section with an overview of the horizontal distribution of ceramics across the entire
site. Then, to remain consistent with the manner in which I organized the vertical distribution, I
break out the horizontal distribution data into three parts: Habitation 1, the E structure area, and
the G and H structure area. I will not specifically discuss the horizontal distribution of ceramics
in Unit B, although the material recovered there is included in the site-wide totals.
The Middleton ceramic assemblage was recovered from Levels 1 through 4 (Figure 5-
33). Level 2 was the most productive, accounting for 382 grams, or 49.4%, of all ceramics.
Level 1 was next, with 355 grams (30.6%), followed by Level 3 with 225 grams (19.5%). Level
4 contained almost no ceramic material: only 6 grams (0.5%) were identified in this context.
The overall horizontal distribution of ceramics does not provide specific information
about how the site was settled, but it is still a useful measure. It reveals that the substantial
majority of the site’s ceramic material by weight (69.4%) was recovered well below the surface
in Levels 2-4. This fact is important at a site like Middleton, for it indicates that the subsurface
deposits are undisturbed. Thus the ceramic distribution data could not have been dramatically
skewed by the overwash that destroyed the site’s main midden and tossed material about the
surface as I discussed earlier.
Although Middleton’s ceramic deposit went as deep as Level 4 in places, the Habitation 1
distribution appears to be shallower. Units C and F only yielded ceramics from Levels 1 and 2,
even though other material was recovered in these Units as deep as Level 4. Level 2 accounted
for the vast majority of the assemblage by sherd count (Figure 5-34) and by weight (Figure 5-
35). In Level 2 we obtained 36 sherds weighing 122 grams, 32 of which of these were from
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imported vessels. The 4 Palmetto ware sherds were small and unremarkable. Only 9 sherds
weighing 42 grams were identified in Level 1. All of these were from imported vessels and none
was decorated.
The E structure area horizontal distribution data is based on Units D and E. Both Units
produced ceramics in Levels 1-3, but not Level 4. Unit D reached bedrock at the bottom of
Level 3, and ceramics were not among the material recovered from Level 4 of Unit E. Among
the three ceramic-producing proveniences, Level 1 was the most productive in terms of sherd
count (Figure 5-36). However this value is skewed because 45 of the 65 sherds from Level 1 are
small (< 2 cm) undecorated body sherds. When the E structure assemblage is viewed by weight,
Level 2 has the larger value, followed by Level 1 and Level 3, respectively (Figure 5-37).
Because of the bias in sherd count I will only use ceramic weight as the unit of analysis
here. Each Level was dominated by imported ceramics. Level 1 contained 172 grams of
imported sherds and 10 grams of Palmetto ware. Level 2 yielded 166 grams of imports and 20
grams of Palmetto ware. Finally, Level 3 contained 102 grams of imports and 35 grams of
Palmetto ware—via the single friable sherd discussed earlier. It is interesting that the Palmetto
ware was not clustered near the surface, but that a small amount was distributed fairly evenly
throughout the E structure deposit.
The G and H structure area includes Units G, H, and A. Here Palmetto ware dominated
the ceramic assemblage throughout the depth of the deposit both in terms of sherd count (Figure
5-38) and weight (Figure 5-39). Level 1 contained 16 sherds weighing a combined 79 grams.
All were Palmetto ware save a single plain imported body sherd weighing 6 grams. Level 2 was
the most productive provenience, and yielded 53 sherds weighing 288 grams. Forty of these
weighing 205 grams were Palmetto ware. The remaining 13 weighing 83 grams were imported,
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and included the diagnostically decorated Chican sherd described above. Level 3 produced 22
sherds weighing 88 grams. Palmetto ware accounted for 15 sherds weighing 46 grams. The
remaining 7 sherds weighing 42 grams we from imported vessels, which includes the Chican
appliqué lug. This sherd along comprise 23 of the 42 grams of imported ceramics in this
provenience. Finally, Level 4 contained the only ceramic material we discovered below Level 3
anywhere at Middleton. Although Unit A terminated in Level 3, Units G and H continued into
Level 4 and combined to produce 3 small plain imported body sherds weighing a total of 6
grams. No Palmetto ware was recovered from this provenience.
Analysis. The ceramic assemblage reveals a great deal about the manner in which
Middleton was occupied, and by whom. It indicates that Middleton Cay was occupied
throughout much of the pre-Columbian period. The period of settlement breaks down into two
clear horizons. Significantly, these horizons correspond to the Meillacan phase and Lucayan
phase I introduced in the previous chapter. For each phase, I begin with an overview of its
ceramic assemblage, then turn to the specific areas of the site that correspond to that period of
occupation.
The first stage of occupation occurred in the Meillacan phase, and includes those areas of
the site that are dominated by imported ceramics with very little Palmetto Ware. Virtually all of
the diagnostic sherds from the Meillacan phase were executed in classic Meillacan motifs. The
only exceptions are the single Chican sherd from the plaza, which was not associated with a
cultural deposit and therefore was probably left there after the plaza was constructed, and the
fragment of the classic Chican mammiform beer bottle. This suggests that the Meillacan phase
occupation probably occurred prior to the 14th century, as discussed in Chapter 1.
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The Meillacan phase included Habitation 1, the E structure area, and the plaza. In
general, in these areas imported ceramics dominate, and decorative motifs are almost exclusively
Meillacan. Still, a limited amount of Palmetto ware was recovered from this area. Interestingly,
the Palmetto ware was not confined to the upper strata as one might expect, but was found in
small amounts throughout the deposit, and even as deep as the bottom of Level 3 in Unit E. This
suggests that locally-made wares were available to the residents of Middleton throughout the
Meillacan phase occupation. If so, then why did the Meillacan phase inhabitants depend so
much more heavily upon imported ceramics? There are several possibilities. First, the
Meillacan phase could represent a series of seasonal, small-scale, short-term visits by small
groups of men from Hispaniola who dropped by to exploit the region’s abundant marine
resources when not otherwise engaged in activities at home. Because they did not intend to stay
at Middleton for long, they were able to bring enough vessels from home to meet their needs.
This scenario seems unlikely, for the scale of the Meillacan phase at Middleton strongly suggests
a longer-term, highly culturally integrated, and more demographically diverse mode of
occupation. A second, and more likely scenario, is that the Meillacan phase residents acquired
Palmetto ware on a limited basis as needed. Evidence from MC-12 on Middle Caicos indicates
that Palmetto ware was used in the region as early as AD 1000 (Keegan 2007:90). The
Meillacan phase residents of Middleton could have acquired some Palmetto vessels in trade with
their contemporaries at MC-12. In any event, it is clear that Palmetto ware was used in the
Meillacan phase, but was never widely incorporated into the material culture. Potential practical
and social reasons behind this fact will be explored at the end of the chapter.
The ceramic assemblage suggests that the Habitation 1 area was occupied during the
Meillacan phase. Imported sherds dominate the assemblage, although Palmetto ware is present,
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even in the lower deposits. Overall, the Habitation 1 area seems to have been peripheral to the
activities on the other side of the island. The deposits are generally shallow and artifact densities
are lower across every provenience. It is possible that this area was settled early in the
colonization process and the smaller footprint reflects short-term, smaller-scale seasonal
activities. Alternatively, Habitation 1 could have been a special-use area, perhaps for conch
extraction, given its propinquity to the massive conch piles. Because the full range of domestic
activities were less common here, there is less cultural material to find. A third possibility was
offered to me in the field by Brian Riggs, based upon his vast personal knowledge of Turks &
Caicos archaeology and natural history. He argued that the site was originally established in the
Habitation 1 area but relocated to the other side of the cay after a hurricane destroyed the
settlement. He observed that a late-season hurricane approaching from the southeast would have
driven the sea right over Habitation 1, and referred to the conch shells and other material we
found washed up against the ridge as evidence of such a scenario. He may be right—Brian
usually is—but unfortunately there is no way to evaluate his or any other hypothesis given the
current, limited data excavated from this part of the site. That Habitation 1 remains a bit of a
mystery is not terribly problematic in the grand view of Middleton Cay, for it is clear that the
real excitement at Middleton was in Habitation 2.
Much of Habitation 2 was occupied in the Meillacan phase. In the E structure area, the
ceramic assemblage is dominated by imported sherds with limited Palmetto ware in evidence.
All diagnostically-decorated sherds were executed in the motif of the Meillacan subseries.
Again, this suggests that the E structure area was most likely inhabited prior to the 14th century.
The only imported sherd that was certainly not Meillacan was the orange-clay Chican bottle
sherd recovered less than 20 cm below the surface in shovel test ON/OE. Given its shallow
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provenience, this sherd probably made its way into the deposit after the E structure area was
occupied, perhaps by way of an iguana burrow. The plaza also contained only imported wares.
The ceramic assemblage from the plaza was comparatively small (n=16), but no Palmetto ware
was in evidence. The two diagnostically decorated Meillacan sherds and one Chican sherd
identified in the plaza suggest that this feature was built during the Meillacan phase, but
continued to be maintained and used afterward.
The second stage of occupation occurred in the Lucayan phase, and includes those areas
of the site that are dominated by Palmetto ware with a lower incidence of imported ceramics.
The preeminence of Palmetto ware alone speaks to a more recent timing for the Lucayan phase
horizon, but so does the nature of the imported ceramic assemblage. Virtually all of the
diagnostic imported sherds from the Lucayan phase were of the Chican Ostionoid subseries.
There were a handful of local variants of this subseries (Veloz Maggiolo 1972:98-108, in Wilson
2007:144; Rouse 1992:52) which increasingly replaced the Meillacan subseries in north-central
Hispaniola sometime in the 14th century. It is also the dominant ceramic style from En Bas
Saline, which is thought to have been a trading partner of the Caicos Island settlements. Because
multiple sherds bearing diagnostic Chican motifs were recovered from the Lucayan phase
proveniences, it is apparent that this occupation occurred sometime after AD 1300.
The ceramic assemblage in the G and H structure area consists primarily of Palmetto
ware with a minority of Chican imports. All of the Palmetto ware was undecorated save a single
mat-marked sherd. It was not a griddle, for it is convex and too thin, and the mat-marking
appears on the exterior, convex side. Such mat-marking has been interpreted as an intentional
form of decoration that may have had symbolic significance (Berman and Hutcheson 2000:429).
Among the imported sherds, the Chican adorno and several white-slipped sherds that probably
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came from Chican bottles were identified. A single sherd with diagnostic Boca Chica modes of
decoration was also recovered, suggesting that the Lucayan phase residents may have had
contact with groups further east or south of what is now northeastern Haiti. Finally, we
identified one sherd with the odd combination of a red interior and white exterior slip—its
affiliation is not known. Most of the G and H structure ceramic assemblage was recovered from
the household middens associated with their respective house floors. The fact that Palmetto ware
and Chican ceramics were found throughout each level of these deposits indicates that these
structures were probably not erected until at least the 14th century.
It is significant that the ceramic assemblages of the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan
phase occupations are so different. There is no gradual transition from one ceramic style to
another. Instead, part of Middleton is Meillacan, while another part is Chican and Palmetto
ware. This evidence suggests that the site may have been abandoned for a period of time. It
seems that Middleton was initially settled by Meillacan-affiliated peoples from Hispaniola, who
occupied the island quite intensively before they departed. After a hiatus, the island was
resettled by a later Chican-affiliated group, possibly from the same part of Hispaniola. They
established their settlement quite near to, but not on top of, the earlier Meillacan village. This
scenario best explains the clear disconnect between the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase
ceramic assemblages, even though the corresponding settlements lie within 20 meters of each
other.
Vertebrates. We recovered vertebrate faunal material from 31 of the 48 proveniences at
the site. Even so, when compared to other sites we excavated there was a lower volume of
faunal material overall. No provenience yielded more than a single 500 ml specimen bag of
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bones, and most bags were less than a third full. This may relate to the size and layout of the
site. Recall the fossil midden. It is enormous by regional standards, and testifies that Middleton
was occupied by a substantial number of people for a long period of time. It is also located west
of, and therefore downwind from, the primary habitation areas. Very likely, the residents
habitually disposed of their refuse in the midden. They would have been well motivated: all of
that garbage would have raised a remarkable stink in the tropical heat. Consequently there
would have been fewer remains discarded throughout the site, which seems to be the case given
the comparative paucity of material we recovered. This material has yet to be analyzed.
Invertebrates. The invertebrate faunal record was analyzed and reveals a number of
interesting insights. The assemblage consists of 17 taxa and includes 11 mollusks, 4 corals,
some unidentified land snails, and a healthy amount of Acanthopleura granulata—the West
Indian Fuzzy Chiton (Table 5-2).
Given the millions of conch shells piled on Middleton Cay, it is hardly surprising that the
queen conch (Strombus gigas) was the dominant marine invertebrate recovered from the
deposits. We identified an MNI of 211 for this species, as well as 54.0 liters of cracked, broken
conch pieces. It is quite interesting that nearly half of the 211 conch shells were finished tools.
We identified 104 finished tools, of which 102 were intact conch picks of every conceivable size.
Most of these were recovered from Unit D. Level 2 of this 1 x 2 meter unit singlehandedly
accounted for 54 picks; Level 3, a further 15. We also observed 14 conch shells that were either
in various stages of manufacture (Figure 5-40) or the leftover remains after the central whorl had
been extracted (Figure 5-41). Most of these were also recovered from Unit D. Intrigued, I
attempted to re-create this form through a little experimental archaeology—although I cheated
and used a screwdriver and a hammer (Figure 5-42). In addition to the conch picks, we also
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recovered two conch-lip celts and a hoe. These were found in Unit D and the adjacent shovel
test 0N/5E.
Of the 10 remaining mollusks, 4 taxa were presumably captured primarily for food.
These include nerites (Nerita sp.) with an MNI of 35, Cittarium pica (MNI=13), Codakia
orbicularis (MNI=10), and Codakia orbiculata (MNI=1). Because these mollusks yield far less
meat than conch, and are far less common at the site, it seems that none of these contributed
substantially to the local diet. Four of the remaining 6 taxa of mollusks were presumably
collected for their shells, for manufacture into beads or fishing implements. This includes the
Oliva (MNI=13) and Olivella (MNI=4) shells, Tellina georgiana (MNI=19) and Pinctada
radiata (MNI=2). The last two taxa include Charonia variegata or the Triton’s trumpet
(MNI=2, including one intact shell) and a single limpet (MNI=1). The Triton’s trumpets may
have been collected for their shells as well, for they are sufficiently rare that they could not be
relied upon as a food item. The invertebrate assemblage is rounded out with four species of
coral, the chiton, and several UID land snails which I lump into a single “taxon” for simplicity’s
sake. Some of the Acropora cervicornus material showed evidence of use, and we identified 9
small abrader tools among this material.
Analysis. The invertebrate assemblage offers a glimpse into how the site was organized
and what activities were taking place in different parts of the site. To remain consistent I discuss
Habitation 1, the E structure area, and the G and H structure area in turn.
Examining the invertebrate assemblage data from Habitation 1 does not produce any
epiphanies. There is not a great deal of invertebrate material from Habitation 1, and what was
recovered is fairly banal. We identified conch of course, including 11 liters of broken pieces and
14 intact picks. We also recovered nerites, some chiton, a Codakia clam, and a Tellina. Both
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species of Acropora were identified but none showed any use wear. Still, these do not live on
the banks and therefore could not have found their way into the deposit via any natural means—
they must have been deliberately brought to the site from elsewhere. Overall, these finds
continue to support the testimony of the similarly unremarkable ceramic assemblage, which
suggests that the Habitation 1 area was not intensively used by the residents of Middleton.
The invertebrate assemblage in the E structure area is another matter entirely, for there is
abundant evidence that very specific human activities were taking place. The data reveal that
Unit D was situated upon the remains of a conch tool workshop. From this 1 x 2 meter unit, we
recovered 49 intact conchs and 25 liters of broken conch pieces—nearly half the amount
recovered from the entire site. We also observed 69 intact conch picks of every imaginable
size—nearly two-thirds of the total recovered from the site. In Level 2 we found 54 conch picks,
so that they greatly exceeded rocks and nearly equaled the amount of soil by volume! We also
identified 14 conch shells that either had the central whorl completely removed or had been
modified in various stages of tool manufacture. Moreover, we identified several specimens of
Tellina and Pinctata, as well as the intact Triton shell, among the matrix, suggesting that other
mollusks were being worked there. A single Cittarium pica shell, one Oliva bead, and one raw
Oliva shell was found. An Acropora cervicornus abrader was identified, as were unmodified
specimens of this coral. Raw Acropora palmatta and Solenastria corals were present as well.
Nerites and the ubiquitous chiton were present, albeit in trace amounts. Unlike the corals, these
are found locally and may have entered the site via natural means. In Unit E we identified only
10 intact conchs and 6 liters of broken conch pieces. We also observed 11 intact picks, although
not in the concentration observed in Unit D. Tellina, Pinctata, and both species of Codakia were
present, as were nerites, chitons, and both species of Acropora corals. Thus far from these
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materials, the assemblage of Unit E looks broadly similar to that of Unit D. However, there are
some taxa far more abundant in Unit E. First, Unit E yielded 7 Cittarium pica to Unit D’s single
specimen. These are food items, but their shells were also employed as raw material for cooking
implements, fishing tackle, and jewelry (Jones O’Day and Keegan 2001). Second, Unit E
produced many more olive shells and beads. We identified 3 Oliva beads and 2 raw shells, and 1
Olivella bead and 3 raw shells, as compared to the 2 Oliva recovered from Unit D. Unit E also
produced the three UID land snail shells.
Differences in the invertebrate assemblages between Units D and E in the E structure area
suggests that different activities were taking place in these two proveniences despite the fact that
they are situated only 12 meters apart. In Unit D, food remains and personal items are rare while
finished tools and shell “debitage” dominates. Thus it must be a workshop where conch and
other shells were modified into tools and other cultural items. In contrast, Unit E looks more like
a domestic area. As a 2 x 2 meter unit it was twice as large as Unit D, but it has one-fifth fewer
intact conch, one-fifth fewer tools, one-fourth the volume of broken conch pieces, and absolutely
no partially-modified shell forms. Unit E also produced the remains of food items like Cittarium
pica and the land snails, and contained a comparative abundance of personal items like Oliva and
Olivella beads and shells. There is no clear house floor near either Unit D or E, but I believe that
at least two structures were present in this area. One may have been erected to shield the Unit D
workers from the elements as they worked, and to store the finished tools and perhaps ceramic
vessels, for many sherds were also recovered from this provenience. If so, it could be analogous
to a hobby workshop or shed in the modern backyard. It could also reflect that part of the
household space that was dedicated to this activity—our 1 x 2 meter unit was by no means large
enough to identify the entire range of activities in a structure which likely measured 10 m or
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more in diameter. The other structure must have been situated near, or perhaps on top of, Unit E.
This area had both food and valuable personal items, and interestingly, very few rocks in the
matrix. This is suggestive of a domestic house floor (Keegan 2007:140). The fact that the Unit E
is located only 8 meters from the plaza corroborates this interpretation: houses, especially those
of chiefs and other elite, were frequently located adjacent to plazas near the center of the
settlement (Keegan 2007:173).
The invertebrate assemblage in the G and H structure area also reveals information about
site usage. Of the two units excavated in this area for which data is available, Unit A is the least
noteworthy, probably because it was in the open and not directly associated with a particular
structure. It yielded limited amounts, but a wide variety of invertebrate remains. Oddly, conch
was comparatively rare in this provenience. We found 10 intact conch, only a third of a liter of
broken conch pieces, and 2 conch picks. We also recovered one or two specimens each of
Tellina, Cittarium pica, Codakia orbicularis, and chiton, as well as trace amounts of the corals
Acropora cervicornis, Solenastrea, and Montastrea. Unit G was more instructive. In this small
1 x 1 meter unit, we recovered a remarkable 12 liters of broken conch pieces, three conch picks,
and a Triton shell apex, but no intact conch shells. There were small amounts of other food-item
mollusks, including a single Cittarium pica shell, 2 Codakia orbicularis clams, a nerite, and a
chiton. Notably, three Tellina were identified, as well as a volume of Acropora cervicornis coral
that included 4 of the 9 abraders we recovered at the entire site. These suggest that beadmaking
occurred in the G structure, which is corroborated by the number of bead blanks we also
obtained from this unit (see below). An Oliva shell was also recovered but it had not been
modified.
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The limited amount of material makes any insight into the goings-on around Unit A little
more than speculation, but the invertebrate material from Unit G sheds light on the activities that
took place in the associated structure. The food item remains are hardly surprising, but the
presence of beadmaking material recovered amongst otherwise ordinary household refuse
suggests that some members of the household were also engaged in beadmaking activities as part
of their regular routine. This runs counter to the observed trend that the beadmaking industry in
the Turks & Caicos was centered around small scale, special-use sites largely established to
produce beads for export. This point will be discussed further later in the chapter.
In addition to illuminating the range and location of activities at Middleton, the faunal
assemblage makes it possible to hypothesize about the manner in which Middleton was occupied
first in the Meillacan phase and later in the Lucayan phase. Recall that the Meillacan phase
includes Habitation 1, the E structure area, and the Plaza. It is marked by a predominantly
Meillacan ceramic assemblage, and appears to have been occupied prior to the 14th century. The
most striking aspect of the invertebrate faunal record from this period is the cache of conch picks
recovered from Unit D. From this, it appears that shell tool manufacture was a dedicated
industry at Middleton. The cache of 69 conch picks in Levels 2 and 3 of Unit D is, to my
knowledge, unprecedented in the region. The sheer number and full range of tool sizes suggests
that these items were being manufactured not only for local use, but also for export. Because the
ceramics link the Meillacan phase of Middleton to the north-central coast of Hispaniola,
specifically northeastern Haiti, it is logical that settlements there were the primary market for
such tools. Moreover, archaeological evidence from northeastern Haiti suggests that conch tools
just like those recovered from Unit D would have been in demand in that area. In 1997, Keegan
and a team of Earthwatch volunteers excavated a site on the small island of Ile à Rat, located in
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the mouth of the Baie de l’Acul near the modern city of Ft. Libertè. The site has two occupation
horizons separated by a layer of sterile sand that was presumably deposited during an “episode of
inundation” via storms or higher sea levels (Keegan 1997b). The lowest horizon contains
predominantly Meillacan ceramics and was radiocarbon dated to between AD 900 and AD 1300,
while the upper horizon contains only Chican ceramics and was radiocarbon dated to after AD
1300. Keegan discovered that “Throughout the [entire] deposit the conchs are extremely small,
averaging about 11 cm in length. The legal size for conchs today is about 20 cm long” (1997b).
Two 11-cm conch could fit end to end across the width of this page. Such animals are tiny
compared to the conch we observed at Middleton. He attributes this not only to overfishing but
also to shell disposal behavior, where only smaller conch were brought to the site for processing
(1997b).
If the small conch and mollusks found at Ile à Rat are representative of the status of the
regional fishery in this area of north-central Hispaniola, then it is possible that some of the conch
tool cache recovered in Unit D was manufactured for export to settlements in and around the
Baie de l’Acul, where raw materials for such tools were less abundant. Admittedly, trade in
conch tools is not as glamorous as trade in exotic beads and fancy, decorated pots. However, this
discovery illuminates an important, and heretofore unappreciated, aspect of the economic
relationship between Meillacan settlements in the southeastern Bahamas and their homelands in
Hispaniola. It demonstrates that conch tools, in addition to foodstuffs, salt, and beads, could
have been an appreciable part of regional exchange, which would mean that the Meillacan phase
Turks & Caicos economy was more diversified than is currently thought.
There is another intriguing aspect of the conch tool cache. If these tools were
manufactured for export then they had value. Why were so many left behind in the first place?
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Recall that there is no gradual transition between the ceramic assemblages of the Meillacan
phase and the Lucayan phase, suggesting that the cay was uninhabited for a period of time
between these occupations. That these perfectly good and valuable tools were abandoned
suggests that some sudden, unanticipated event drove the Meillacan phase residents away.
Perhaps a storm approached and they evacuated to higher ground on a larger, more elevated
island. If the tempest were severe, it may have destroyed their infrastructure on the Middleton
and led them to abandon the site. An alternative explanation is that the Meillacan phase
residents were driven off by another group. There is evidence from the Meillacan phase ceramic
assemblage that Palmetto ware was sporadically acquired, possibly from the residents of MC-12
on Middle Caicos to the north. Yet the Meillacan phase residents never fully incorporated
Palmetto ware into their material culture, relying instead upon the imported ceramics that linked
them to their homeland in northern Hispaniola. This suggests that the residents of Middleton
maintained a separate social identity from those at MC-12. Perhaps tensions between the two
groups caused the Meillacan phase residents to flee. The presence of multiple, partially-finished
conch shell tools suggests that the decision to leave was a sudden one. The arrival of a hostile
group at Middleton could have precipitated such haste. Such conflict was observed at the
Meillacan Governor’s Beach site on Grand Turk, so inter-group strife in the Turks & Caicos is
by no means unprecedented. And there is no reason that the invaders would have taken the
conch tools for themselves, either. The Governor’s Beach site contained hundreds of finished
beads—certainly a valuable commodity—that were intentionally destroyed in a fire, presumably
by the invading force (Keegan 2007:90), almost as if the aggressors wanted to blot every aspect
of the opposing culture from the local landscape. Whether the impetus behind the Meillacan
phase residents’ decision to abandon Middleton was natural or anthropogenic, the end result
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seems clear. The Meillacan phase residents left Middleton in a hurry, and the cay was not
permanently resettled until after the Meillacan/Chican transition had fully run its course in
Hispaniola.
The people who re-colonized Middleton situated their settlement near to, but not atop of,
the Meillacan phase village. The invertebrate faunal assemblage indicates that the Lucayan
phase residents were making beads in the G and H structure area. Beyond that, the limited
invertebrate faunal assemblage does not provide a great deal of insight into this period of
occupation.
Beads. The excavations at Middleton revealed that people were making beads in both
the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase. Across the site, we recovered 4 round blanks, 2
drilled but incompletely rounded beads, and two drilled and rounded, finished beads (Figure 5-
43). Ironically, none of these were manufactured from the cherry jewelbox! This is likely
because that mollusk would not have been abundant in the environment around Middleton. It
attaches to a fixed submerged object, and the cay does not feature a great deal of permanently
inundated coastline or many reefs in the area. Of the 8 items I could identify that 4 were made
from conch. Two are somewhat translucent and may be Tellina sp., one appears to be made of
Codakia clam, and the final bead is unidentified to genus—but it is not red. One finished bead
was recovered in Habitation 1, from Unit C. Because we did not identify any raw blanks in this
area, I assume the bead was simply dropped here. However, Habitation 1 was not heavily
excavated so sample bias is certainly possible. In any event there is more abundant evidence
from Habitation 2. Two blanks, two drilled and unfinished beads, and a finished bead were
recovered in the Meillacan phase, E structure area. All but one unfinished drilled bead were
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obtained from Unit E, which indicates that beadmaking was one of the household activities of
those who occupied the E structure. Interestingly, all of these items were identified in Level 1.
This could mean that beadmaking was not widespread when the site was first established, but
became important as “bead fever” swept the region after the Meillacan-affiliated peoples fully
recognized the opportunity. The remaining drilled blank was recovered from shovel test
0N/20E, immediately adjacent to Unit E and quite possibly within the original structure. There
is no depth provenience for this item, but it did motivate me to locate Unit E in the vicinity. The
remaining material was located in Unit G and corresponds to the later, Lucayan phase
occupation. Two undrilled conch blanks were identified in addition to the beadmaking remains
and tools discussed earlier in the invertebrate faunal assemblage section. This data indicates that
beadmaking took place in the G structure, and that this activity remained an important part of the
regional economy well into the Chican era, at least at Middleton Cay.
Lithics. Several igneous or metamorphic stone items were recovered from the site.
These are noteworthy because these materials are not available in the Bahama archipelago and
must have been acquired in Hispaniola. Exotic stone items were identified in both the Meillacan
phase and the Lucayan phase. For the Meillacan phase, we identified a tiny greenstone celt chip
on the surface near Unit E and a pink chert microlith in shovel test 0N/15E, likewise adjacent to
Unit E. Chert microliths such as these were incorporated into manioc graters in the Bahamas
(Berman 1995, Berman et al. 1999) and on the northern coast of Hispaniola (Deagan 2004:615),
but also have been associated with bead production because they were used as drill bits (Carlson
1993, Sinelli 2001:91). While either of these uses are possible, given the item’s location near the
beadmaking activities in Unit E and shovel test 0N/20E, it is most plausible that the microlith
was used as a bead drill. In the Lucayan phase, Unit H yielded a surprising number of large
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greenstone flakes. Some had been rounded in places, suggesting that these were the remains of a
celt or celts that were broken through use and discarded (Figure 5-44). It is intriguing that such a
volume of greenstone debris was recovered in Unit H but nowhere else at the site. This could
certainly be the result of sample bias given our limited excavations, but might also reflect some
special activity that took place in the H structure, perhaps woodworking or some other sort of
craft production. Elsewhere, a shaped greenstone item of indistinguishable use was identified at
the waterline near the fossil midden. It has clearly been smoothed and modified but is not yet in
the shape of a celt (Figure 5-45). Perhaps it was a work in process when it was lost. In any
event, the presence of imported greenstone items and chert microliths at the site corroborates
other lines of evidence which demonstrate that the residents of Middleton were regularly
engaged in trade with settlements in Hispaniola. Moreover, this relationship continued
throughout both the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase, as exotic stones and other
Hispaniolan items were obtained in exchange for foodstuffs, conch tools, and beads.
Two radiocarbon dates were obtained from Middleton. Both were obtained from intact,
punched Strombus shells that were specifically selected to establish the chronology of a
particular feature or provenience. Both samples were submitted to Beta Analytic for standard
radiometric analysis. Both dates were calibrated and adjusted for local reservoir correction.
The first sample was recovered from Unit D, Level 3. It was a very large (1.35 kg)
punched Strombus shell from the very bottom of the terminal level, and it literally rested on
sterile soil at 30 cm below the surface. I selected it to date the beginning of the Meillacan phase
occupation that was so well evidenced in the E structure area. It was assigned designation Beta
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242673. The intercept of the radiocarbon age with the calibration curve occurred at Cal AD
1160 +/- 50, with a two-sigma range of Cal AD 1040 to 1260 (Appendix C).
The second sample was recovered from Unit H, Level 3. It also was a large punched
Strombus shell that was resting immediately on top of the Chican adorno recovered from this
provenience at a depth of 26 cm below the surface. I selected it to date the Lucayan phase that
was well evidenced in the G and H structure area. It was assigned designation Beta 242674. The
intercept of the radiocarbon age with the calibration curve occurred at Cal AD 1440 +/- 50, with
a two-sigma range of Cal AD 1340-1490.
Analysis. The radiocarbon dates obtained from Middleton clearly corroborate the
testimony offered by the ceramic assemblage. The date from Unit D, Level 3 confirms that the E
structure area was occupied first, beginning in the middle of the 12th century AD. The date also
confirms that the Meillacan phase of Middleton is contemporaneous with other Meillacan sites in
the region, including Spud (discussed later in this chapter), Governor’s Beach on Grand Turk
(Carlson 1999:144), and MC-8/MC-10 on Middle Caicos (Sinelli 2001:87). This date also
overlaps with those obtained from Coralie on Grand Turk, where Ostionan pottery dominates,
and MC-12 on Middle Caicos, where Palmetto ware was almost exclusively recovered (Keegan
2007:139). This finding is significant: apparently three distinct groups of people inhabited the
Turks & Caicos in the middle of the 12th century. This point will be explored in detail at the end
of the chapter.
Architecture
The plaza. Thus far I have discussed the plaza in broad strokes, but it is important to
understand more about how it was made. Because plazas are rare in the Turks & Caicos I
anticipate some skepticism, and will therefore be thorough. I hope to demonstrate that this
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feature was intentionally designed and deliberately constructed for use as a plaza, and is not a
natural feature.
The first line of evidence that demonstrates that the plaza was intentionally constructed
comes from its location and orientation. It lies on the eastern side of Middleton Cay, and it
approaches to within 15 meters of the ironstone that marks the beginning of the cay’s eastern
shoreline. This situation maximizes the plaza’s eastern frontage, and east was the Hispaniolans’
cardinal direction (Harris 1994). The plaza is oval shaped with axes of 21 meters by 12 meters.
Importantly, the long axis is oriented on a nearly exact north-south bearing. When we erected
the transect we situated the transect line with a compass to ensure the grid was aligned with
magnetic north. This was largely a matter of archaeological convention, and was not based upon
any special feelings we had about the plaza initially. In doing so, we placed the rods to which
we tied the line at what we interpreted to be the exact top and bottom of the oval. Again, this
was simply to ensure that our grid covered the entire feature and that all of the test units were
precisely plotted. Almost immediately, I noted that the transect neatly bisected the plaza, so I
initiated a series of measurements to determine if this were indeed true. I and a student ran a
tape measure perpendicular to the transect line at various points along the transect. Each time we
ensured that the tape measure was perpendicular to the transect by confirming the tape’s true
east-west orientation with a compass. At every point we measured, the linear measurement of
the plaza’s width was halved at the transect, within a difference of no more than 30 cm. Because
these variances probably resulted as much from our interpretation of where the sides of the plaza
“ended” as anything else, I felt comfortable with the results of this exercise. It demonstrated that
the plaza was precisely arranged.
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The second line of evidence is revealed in the constitution of the plaza. As the reader
learned earlier, the plaza is covered almost exclusively by stunted grasses that seem to thrive
within it but were observed only in small, isolated clumps elsewhere on the island. As we
excavated the 19 test units, the reason for this anomaly became apparent. Most of the soil within
the plaza is sterile sand, light tan if not white in color, extremely low in organics, and very well
drained. These hardy grasses are essentially the only thing that can survive in this water-starved
medium. The soils in the plaza stand in contrast to those found immediately outside of it, such as
in Unit E, which was a mere 8 meters distant. Outside of the plaza we observed the familiar grey
anthrosol. Within the plaza, we detected primarily sterile beach sand that must have been
brought in from the beach or surrounding banks. Notably, the soils near the center of the plaza
were different. Here we detected darker soils—darker even than the grey anthrosol, and
occasionally approaching black. The dark soils overlain the light sand layers, and varied in
depth from about 15 to 30 cm. This fact initially led me to suspect that there was some
disturbance in the central part of the plaza—perhaps even a burial—which is why I directed that
so many of the subsequent test units be placed there (Figure 5-17). However, our excavations
here yielded virtually no cultural material, just as in those areas where exclusively lighter soils
were present. Intrigued, I began looking for the source of the dark soils. I eventually determined
that this soil could have been obtained elsewhere on the cay, especially in the lower-lying
swampy areas we observed in an unoccupied area south of Habitation 1 that lay less than 100 m
from the plaza. Although this material was presumably richer in organics (in fact, the only non-
grass vegetation in the plaza was growing there), none of this seems associated with direct
human activity in this area. The plaza’s dark soils, like its light soils, were almost completely
culturally sterile. This includes not only ceramics, as discussed above, but also shell and bone,
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which were observed only in trace amounts here and throughout the plaza and never in any
appreciable concentration.
The plaza matrix also lacks the inclusions that one would expect to find in both natural
and anthropogenic soils. There were virtually no rocks in any of the matrix we screened. This
fact alone suggests that the plaza soils were not naturally occurring. As anyone who has dug a
hole in the Bahama archipelago knows, limestone rocks of all shapes and sizes are as ubiquitous
as lobbyists in Washington. Interestingly, we did observe a large concentration of golf ball to
fist-sized rocks littering the area immediately west of the plaza. From this fact, it seems that the
plaza matrix was picked clean of rocks. This must have occurred during construction, as raw
matrix from either the beach or the swampy area at the south of the island was dumped in the
plaza and picked through to remove any sizeable inclusion. It is significant that these rocks were
discarded exclusively to the west of the plaza and not willy-nilly around its perimeter. Piling
rocks here would make the adjacent area west of the plaza unsuitable for habitation—no one
would situate their house upon a pile of rocks. This suggests that the western side of the plaza
was viewed as a socially unacceptable place to live—the profane opposition of the sacred east.
The Taino viewed the island of Hispaniola as a living animal with its head to the east and anus to
the west (Harris 1994). At Middleton, west may have also represented the “anus” of the island,
where people should not live and trash and filth were appropriately deposited. The fossil midden
is also located westward of the settlement, perhaps also for this reason, as well as the simple
logic of keeping a huge pile of rotting garbage downwind of the main settlement.
The final line of evidence relates to the relationship of known structures to the plaza. The
southeast corner of Unit E is 8 meters northwest of the plaza boundary. Because this unit was
only 2 x 2 meters in size and appears to be part of the house floor, the walls of the structure itself
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must have been even closer, possibly abutting the plaza directly. The Unit G structure was
similarly placed, albeit to the north and not as directly adjacent to the plaza—it sits about 10
meters distant. This is consistent with known patterns of site layout in which some households
are located nearer the center of the village and adjacent to the plaza, if one were present.
To summarize, the plaza is a nearly precise oval, situated on the culturally-significant
eastward shore of the island. Its long axis is situated on a precise north-south bearing, which
effectively enhances its symbolic significance by maximizing exposure to the rising sun, moon,
and stars. The soils that form the plaza are virtually devoid of cultural material and appear to
have been picked clean of rocks. These rocks were intentionally discarded to the profane west of
the plaza. Finally, two of the structures we identified at the site are situated adjacent to the plaza,
in line with established patterns of site layout. Based on these facts, I argue that this feature
cannot be a natural occurrence, but is a plaza constructed and used by the residents of Middleton
Cay.
The few ceramics we identified in the 19 test units provide some insight into the plaza’s
history. Recall that all of the 13 small sherds were from imported vessels, and that of the 4 that
were decorated, 3 were Meillacan and one was Chican. From these facts, I concluded that the
plaza was initially constructed and used during the Meillacan phase occupation. While these
facts seem clear, the role that the plaza played during the Lucayan phase is less obvious. There
are two possibilities. First, the Lucayan phase residents that recolonized the island after the
period of abandonment could have largely ignored the plaza, viewing it as just another part of the
landscape. Alternatively, the Lucayan phase residents could have rehabilitated the plaza and
actively used it. I argue that the archaeological evidence confirms the latter scenario: that the
feature was restored and used as a plaza in the Lucayan phase. The first line of evidence
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supporting this hypothesis is found in the Lucayan phase material culture we recovered from the
test units: namely, there was not any. Save the single Chican sherd, the plaza area was devoid of
Lucayan phase cultural material, and there was no Palmetto ware whatsoever. This clearly
suggests that the area was kept clean and that people were not using the plaza for regular
household activities in the Lucayan phase. If the plaza were just part of the landscape, we should
have found bits and pieces of material in similar concentrations to those we identified elsewhere,
or perhaps even household middens or some other evidence of concentrated activity. We did
not. The second line of evidence relates to the different soils we found in the plaza. The soils
seem to have been brought in from two different places: the light sand from the beach or
shallows, and the dark soils from the swampy area south of Habitation 1. This suggests that the
soils were brought in at different times by different people. When the Lucayan phase settlers
returned to the island, they set out to rehabilitate the plaza. Depending on how badly the plaza
had deteriorated during the period Middleton was abandoned, they might have had to re-level the
feature with additional fill from elsewhere. Given that the dark soils overlay the lighter beach
sand in the center of the plaza, it seems that the Lucayan phase people moved soil from the south
side of the island to complete the restoration. Because this material is likewise devoid of rocks,
the Lucayan phase people presumably behaved like the Meillacan phase residents before them,
picking through the soil and discarding any inclusions to the culturally-appropriate area west of
the plaza. Once restored, the plaza seems to have been maintained, for we found no greater
number of rocks or cultural material on the surface than we did in the subsurface deposits.
Now that I have established the existence of the plaza, I will turn to why it was built and
how it may have been used. Because plazas are not common in the Turks & Caicos, Middleton
is in elite company. MC-6 on Middle Caicos is one of the few plaza communities, and it is
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“unlike any other site in the rest of the Bahama archipelago” (Keegan 2007:183). MC-6 was a
“gateway community” through which the abundant resources of the southern Bahama
archipelago passed to the classic Taino cacicazgos of northern Hispaniola. As such, it was an
“economic hub” as described earlier in the chapter; a regional capital and the economic and
social powerhouse of its time. Although Middleton is certainly not as complex as MC-6 (See
Keegan 2007 for the most comprehensive analysis of MC-6 in print), the mere fact that it also
has a plaza means that Middleton, too, was an important place inhabited by important people.
The Meillacan phase occupation of Middleton predates the establishment of MC-6 by nearly
three centuries. This suggests that Middleton, like MC-6 after it, was one of the central
settlements in the Turks & Caicos during the 12th and 13th centuries, and perhaps beyond. In this
context, the plaza represents the site’s overall economic, social, and spiritual power. That is why
it was built—to project these.
Plazas are at once public space, a means to preserve cultural identity, and a statement of
individual authority. Plazas are used by the public as communal gathering space during the
course of daily life. Like the town square in small-town America, plazas are a place where
people can meet and visit, and perhaps conduct business, on common ground outside of the
domestic arena. They are also a “place of assemblies and festivities [where] the Indians held
their arietos, dances accompanied by musical instruments and songs of their past and their
customs” (Sauer 1966:63-64). These crucial activities bind the group as a cultural unit and
define and preserve the people’s shared history, values, and identity. Plazas are also physical
manifestations of chiefly power. Whereas most houses in the settlement “formed a random and
loose cluster,” the “great house of the cacique” always fronted the plaza (Sauer 1966:63). Chiefs
located their houses here to demonstrate that they were the axis of everything, both literally and
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figuratively. This not only ceaselessly reinforced their chiefly status to the rest of the
community, but also would have immediately been appreciated by anyone who visited the
settlement from elsewhere. As such, plazas enable chiefs to justify their authority over their own
people, and impress their importance upon everyone else in the region, including other elites.
Although it is comparatively small, there is no reason to believe that the plaza at
Middleton was used any differently than plazas at settlements in Hispaniola. Compared to public
architecture elsewhere in the West Indies, the plaza at Middleton certainly did not require many
man-hours to build. Thus the manner in which it projects chiefly authority does not lie within
the special knowledge or organizational skills needed to design it, or in the power to conscript
labor to build it. At Middleton, the plaza projects chiefly authority simply because it exists. A
chief needs to locate his house on a plaza because that is what chiefs do, and have always done.
Any chief who does not live on a plaza is somehow a lesser figure.
As I have hopefully demonstrated, the plaza speaks to the social organization at
Middleton. It is tangible evidence that corroborates the theoretical argument presented at the
beginning of this chapter, which holds that only a chief could manage the kind of process we
observe at the site. Based on the evidence, I argue that the first true “chiefs” in the Turks &
Caicos lived at Middleton Cay, beginning in the 12th century AD.
The stone “compass.” The area northeast of the plaza is littered with limestone slabs
and boulders that range in size from that of a surfboard to that of a washing machine. Aside
from some limited surface scatter that was probably washed in from elsewhere, we generally did
not observe any evidence of indigenous activity in the area. However, further to the northeast
and directly adjacent to the tidal flat at the north tip of the island, I discovered four slabs
arranged into a clear square pattern. Notably, three of these were erected on end and were
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partially buried, while the fourth appeared as if it had once also stood on end but had fallen over
(Figure 5-46). I am an unapologetic skeptic when it comes to stone alignments (to paraphrase
Freud, “Sometimes a line of rocks is just a line of rocks”), but this particular feature gave me
pause. First, the feature cannot be natural. These slabs would have naturally lain flat and must
have been placed upright and partially buried by human beings. Second, compass readings and
measurements revealed that the slabs were arranged with one each at the four cardinal directions
(Figure 5-47), effectively creating a stone “compass.” As such, this feature could be a sort of
indigenous astronomical or navigational device. Perhaps it was used to measure time or the
seasons through the movements of the sun or the stars. Finally, it could be historic, although I
cannot imagine why anyone from South Caicos would erect such a thing on Middleton Cay.
Housing. We identified four structures at Middleton. Before I discuss these, it is
important to understand how housing can tell us a great deal about a site’s population,
demographic makeup, and social organization. This context will make it easier for the reader to
appreciate what the Middleton houses tell us about the people who lived in them.
Keegan (1992) constructed a model to estimate the total population of the Bahama
archipelago at contact. To do so, he first constructed a formula to estimate the population of
individual sites. This formula was based upon ethnographic accounts and archaeological data
from Cuba, the Bahama archipelago, and elsewhere. From these, he determined that houses
averaging 10 meters in diameter, in which resided “complete lineage sections” of 20 people that
included multiple households, would have been placed 30 meters apart at an average site
(1992:167). This led him to his final formula:
All of the evidence on community size, drawn from such disparate

sources as Columbus’ diario, overall Lucayan site dimensions, site
MC-6, and precontact settlement in other regions, gives a consistent
figure of 1 house per 33 meters of site length (0.03 houses/m) with
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20 member households occupying each house. Thus community
size can be retrodicted by multiplying the length of the site by 0.6
persons per meter (i.e., 20 persons per house times 0.03 houses per
meter of site length) (1992:168).
Keegan’s model was designed to estimate the contact-era Lucayan population. The Lucayans
certainly inhabited Middleton during the Lucayan phase, but not in the Meillacan phase. Still, I
believe the model can be profitably applied to the earlier period. Keegan’s model relies upon
archaeological evidence from the central Bahamian Lucayans’ ancestral homeland of Cuba, as
well as ethnographic analogy with the ancestral West Indian homelands in South America
(1992:166-167). If these assumptions applied to the Lucayans in the late 15th century, then they
can reasonably be applied to the Meillacan phase colonization of the region that occurred but a
few centuries earlier. In short, the Lucayans did not “invent” this settlement pattern. It had been
part of their collective ancestors’ strategy for hundreds, if not thousands of years, and there is no
reason to believe that the Meillacan peoples behaved any differently.
Keegan’s calculus is useful to understanding Middleton, but it must be adapted to the
unique circumstances of small cay environments. First, Middleton is not a “linear” site akin to
those situated behind the dunes on large islands in the Bahama archipelago. Sites on large
islands are linearly arranged—that is, they tend to be long and narrow—in order to maximize
everyone’s access to the sea. There is no such constraint on small cays, because the sea is rarely
more than a stone’s throw away from any point on the island. Therefore Keegan’s “linear”
measurement of site length must be modified for small cay sites to somehow reflect this
situation. This can be achieved by measuring the entire coastline of a small cay that is adjacent
to the site. For example, if the site covers an entire cay, then substitute the island’s entire
perimeter for Keegan’s “linear” measure. Or in the particular case of Middleton, that portion of
the island’s coastline that is contiguous to the Habitation 2 area. By my calculations, that gives
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Middleton a “linear” coastal measure of 380 meters. Multiplying this measure by Keegan’s 0.6
persons per meter yields an estimated population of 228 persons. I did not include Habitation 1
in this calculation because we did not identify any significant evidence that domestic activities
occurred in this area. If Habitation 1 were included, the coastal measure would jump to 495
meters and the population estimate to 297 persons. But to be conservative, I believe that the
Habitation 2 figures are more appropriate.
A settlement of this size would have been comprised of people from all walks of life.
Thus, the Middleton settlement would have been demographically and socially diverse. Men and
women, children, adolescents, and the elderly would all have been present. Individuals would
have resided with other members of their lineage in their own structure, or if the lineage were
large, perhaps several structures. Yet because all 228 people likely did not reckon descent from
a single ancestor, multiple lineages must have been present at the site. The size of the population
suggests that at least one of these lineages must have had an enhanced social status over the
others. A settlement of more than two hundred souls would have required an organizational
authority embodied in an individual cacique who belonged to an elite or chiefly lineage. His
social power enabled him to coordinate and direct the labor of members of the community that
belonged to lineages other than his own, not only to meet the group’s basic economic needs, but
also fulfill its social obligations to each other and to other settlements. The chief would also
have coordinated and controlled the long-distance exchange with Hispaniola. This was a
complicated affair that truly required a central decision maker, as discussed earlier in this
chapter.
At first glance the housing we identified at Middleton does not reflect a community of
perhaps 228 individuals. Our work only identified 2 probable structures (D and E from The
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Meillacan phase) and two certain structures (G and H from The Lucayan phase) at the site.
However, given the population estimate and other evidence from the site, what we found cannot
represent all of the housing at Middleton. First, if houses were occupied by an average of 20
people in a single lineage, then as many as 11 structures (228/20) housing a number of lineages
would have been necessary to shelter the populace. Second, the size of the site’s fossil midden
strongly implies that more than two households lived there at a time. It measures nearly 900
cubic meters by volume, and that does not include the material that was washed away from this
lithified base. Third, the plaza would not have been built at a hamlet site with only two houses—
plazas are designed to project power, as discussed above. Finally, Middleton’s sister settlement
Spud was established almost simultaneously, which suggests that physical space and/or resource
availability at Middleton quickly reached capacity. This is a requisite condition to begin the
process of settlement pairing described earlier. There would have been no need to establish a
new paired village had there been sufficient space on Middleton and enough resources within its
catchment, which is certainly large enough to accommodate far more than 2 houses and feed
more than 40 people. Nevertheless, the four structures we identified and examined provide an
excellent sample of the site’s layout and its residents’ range of behaviors, even if we were not
able to identify the location of every single household. Now that the theoretical foundation has
been laid, I turn to the specifics of the structures themselves.
The E and D structures are associated with the Meillacan phase. Here we did not identify
a specific structural outline, but the presence of structures associated with Units D and E is
implied by the material recovered within. The E structure is located nearest the plaza. This fact
suggests that it was occupied by an elite lineage that may have included the cacique, for it was
common practice in the West Indies to situate the chief’s residence near the center of the village
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(Sauer 1966:63; Rouse 1992:9,15). Within this structure, we identified a comparatively high
proportion of decorated ceramics, personal items like beads, and few faunal remains. We also
discovered evidence of beadmaking activity. The D structure is situated approximately 10-15
meters west of the E structure. Here we identified the conch tool workshop and a far lower
number of decorated sherds despite the unit’s comparatively larger sample of ceramics.
The G and H structures are associated with the Lucayan phase. The G structure is located
adjacent to the northern end of the plaza, at a distance of 10 meters. It is the larger of the two
Lucayan phase structures, with an east/west axis of 9.85 meters and a north/south axis of 9.8
meters. This corresponds nicely with the 10 meter average size for Lucayan houses recorded in
the enthnohistoric literature, and was the value that Keegan used in his model. It yielded
primarily Palmetto ware and a limited amount of imported ceramics that included two slipped
sherds. There was also solid evidence for beadmaking in the form of blanks and abrading tools.
The H structure is situated about 9 meters to the northeast of the G structure, further away from
the plaza. It is smaller, with an east/west axis of 6.6 meters and a north/south axis of 6.15
meters. Evidently, there was no fixed Lucayan social norm concerning the “correct” house size.
It also produced mostly Palmetto ware. Among the imported vessels were two slipped sherds,
the Chican adorno, and a sherd with classic Chican designs. Unit H also produced the large
volume of celt flakes that appeared to have been broken off through use.
In both the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase, there is an interesting difference
between the assemblages recovered from the structures closer to the plaza and those from the
structures more distant. Presumably, those structures that abutted the plaza (structures E and G)
would have housed elite lineages, and those further away from the plaza (structures D and H),
lineages of less social standing. There is some evidence supporting this hypothesis. First and
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most notably, both the Unit E and Unit G materials include abundant evidence for beadmaking,
whereas Units D and H did not. Second, Units D and H contain evidence of more pedestrian
activities: the D structure includes the conch tool workshop, while the H structure includes the
mass of broken greenstone celts, implying that woodworking (for tool handles, canoe paddles,
etc.) or perhaps some other craft production took place there. No evidence for these sorts of
activities was observed in Units E or G.
In terms of political economy, this situation makes some sense. Beads were prima facie
status symbols. As such, it was socially appropriate for only certain members of society to
display them. From this fact, it follows that the elite who would eventually use the beads would
also be the ones who controlled their production, for if everyone could make beads for their own
personal use, then the social value associated with these items is rapidly deflated. Our society is
replete with similar hallmarks of prestige: if every car on the road were a Rolls Royce, then how
special would it be to drive a Rolls Royce? Concomitantly, elite control over bead production
would have enabled them to further enrich and empower themselves via trade with Hispaniola.
All of the evidence suggests that bead exports were an important export for the Turks & Caicos
residents. Maintaining control of bead production in the Turks & Caicos would assure that only
elite lineages reaped the benefits of such trade. Even though beadmaking was likely controlled
by the elite lineages, non-elite members of society also had some economic options. They could
make a tidy living manufacturing goods like shell tools and perhaps worked wood for trade, but
were denied the right to produce the most profitable and socially-charged items, with all of the
attendant benefits.
In conclusion, Middleton is clearly a large and important site. However it cannot be
properly understood unless one examines it in context with its sister site, Spud. After I discuss
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that site, I will offer my interpretations of these sites’ relationship with each other and their
broader significance in Caicos Bank prehistory.
Spud
Data
Physical description of Spud and Long Cay
I described the physical nature of Long Cay in Chapter 2—The Caicos Bank Survey.
There is no need to repeat that information here. Instead I will briefly describe where the site is
located in relation to other sites and activity areas around South Caicos, and why this location
was chosen for settlement.
Description of Spud
Spud is located on the northern third of Long Cay, 1.75 km southwest of Cockburn
Harbour, South Caicos and 3.75 km east of Middleton. The site is roughly rectangular, with
maximum dimensions that measure a tidy 100 meters by 50 meters (Figure 5-48). Because the
northern half of Long Cay bends to the east, the long axis of the site is oriented on a southwest to
northeast bearing, so that when one stands at Spud and faces the Caicos Bank, one is looking
northwest. Unlike Middleton, Spud is elevated and has some topography. The southwestern tip
of the site is the lowest, and it abuts a beach that varies between 3 and 8 meters wide depending
on the tide. From here the site slopes upward to a fairly flat plateau that sits 2 to 3 meters above
the high water line (Figure 5-49). Roughly half of the site is situated on this plateau. As one
walks northeast along the beach, one observes a series of steep limestone ledges and abrupt
slopes that form the seaward boundary of the site. While the limestone ledges have protected
part of the site from wave action, unprotected portions of the deposit are eroding down the slopes
toward the water. This gives the seaward boundary of the site a “toothy” appearance as eroded,
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sloping gaps are interspersed with limestone ledges jutting directly into the water. We observed
a considerable amount of cultural material at the base of these slopes, much of which was
inundated at high tide. The opposite, southeastern boundary of the site is marked by a steep
ridge that rises precipitously upward to an elevation of perhaps 40 meters. This is the limestone
backbone of Long Cay, and it protects the plateau from the howling wind, punishing waves, and
persistent salt spray that wafts in from the Columbus Passage on the other side of the island. As
one moves northeast from the plateau the site rises, gently at first, but with an accelerating grade.
The northeastern boundary of Spud is 10 to 12 meters above the southwestern beach. The
surface scatter lightens as one moves upward, then abruptly terminates, presumably because the
natural slope of the island simply made domestic activities too difficult. Beyond the site’s
northeastern boundary, it is an easy amble to the top of Long Cay’s limestone bluff. The view
from the apex is stunning, and one can see as far as Middle Caicos.
Long Cay is a big island and our surveys revealed that indigenous peoples visited a lot of
it. Recall that we identified 4 activity areas on Long Cay in addition to the Spud site, one of
which (LC-AA02) may have been a small settlement. Interestingly, all of these were south of
Spud and located in environments that have better beaches, are flatter, and generally seem more
conducive to settlement. Moreover, these areas are closer to Middleton Cay—as close as 2.5 km
versus the 3.75 km to Spud. In the field, this made me wonder why Spud was located on the
hilly, rocky, north end of the island, and what caused its residents to choose this seemingly
inferior spot on Long Cay. After some reflection, I now believe I have the answer.
Spud and Middleton form a settlement pair, with Middleton the primary site and Spud the
secondary. This implies that Spud was established sometime after Middleton as outlined at the
beginning of this chapter. Because the decision to establish a new sister site was based upon
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economic and social needs, it would have been necessary to locate the site in a place that was
practical from both perspectives. Thus, the people of Middleton would have sought a location
that not only maximized access to resources, but also made it possible to maintain social
relations. Settling the north end of Long Cay enabled them to strike that balance.
One of the points of establishing a pair site is to expand and/or diversify the population’s
collective access to resources. In this case, that meant locating the site near resources that were
not available at Middleton, such as reef and pelagic marine environments. This eliminated the
center of Long Cay, where the marine environment is flat, shallow bank that is identical to that
surrounding Middleton. The center of the Long Cay is several kilometers by canoe from the
channels northeast and south of the island that allowed access to open water—in short, it would
have required a much longer commute. Moreover, the center of the Long Cay is as close as 2.5
km from Middleton. The catchment of any site located there would have considerably
overlapped that of Middleton, which defeats the purpose of establishing a sister site. Because the
new settlement had to be located a sufficient distance from Middleton to minimize such overlap,
Spud had to be situated elsewhere. Although the physical nature of the southern end of Long
Cay is conducive to settlement, the northeastern portion of the island is more distant from
Middleton and its primary catchment. This favors the northern end of Long Cay.
Not coincidentally, Spud is associated with the absolutely last stretch of beach on the
northern third of the island. There is virtually no coastline from Spud to the northeastern end of
Long Cay a kilometer away—only high escarpment that drops directly to the water. It simply is
not possible to settle this kilometer of the island because there is no way to approach it. Thus
Spud is as far away from Middleton as a Long Cay site can be. Concomitantly, it is also located
as close to South Caicos, Dove Cay, and Big Cut (the channel that leads from of the Caicos Bank
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to the open sea) as is possible. This makes sense, for South Caicos had arable land, wood for
fires and structures, and probably fresh water, while the channel provided access to open water
and those marine resources that do not occur on the bank. Thus, Spud is a carefully constructed
compromise. Its location maximized access to resources, minimized catchment overlap, and
facilitated social relations. It is located on an island within an island—a unique spot that
satisfied specific needs, even if the landscape was somewhat less salubrious than other parts of
Long Cay.
It is apparent that the residents of Middleton put much thought into the location of their
sister settlement. Even more striking is the fact that the notion of establishing the new settlement
on South Caicos did not seem to enter the equation. Why? Would it not make sense to locate a
site directly on the big island and its resources? Is not South Caicos sufficiently distant from
Middleton’s catchment and directly adjacent to Dove Cay and Big Cut? Yet the island was never
intensively settled by residents of Middleton, or anyone else in prehistory for that matter. There
are only three very small sites on South Caicos. At these “there is very little pottery or mollusk
shell [and] little evidence of anthropogenic soils development”, which suggests that “these sites
may have been temporary camps or procurement areas” (Keegan et al. 1994:13). These sites are
outposts or pot drops that were peripheral to the primary regional settlements. People simply did
not live on South Caicos, electing instead to intensively settle the small cays to its south and
west. This fact speaks to the significance of small cay environments in indigenous settlement
patterns, which I discuss in detail in the last chapter of this dissertation.
Excavation details
We completed a total of 9 excavation units of various sizes, lettered A through I (Figure
5-50). Units A, B, E and F were 1 meter square. Unit C was 2 meters square, and Units D, G, H,
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and I were 50 x 50 cm test units. We began on the first day with Units A and B. Unit A was
situated in an area of dense surface scatter and very dark soils adjacent to a limestone ledge near
the seaward boundary of the site. Unit B was located in a similar context, but about 15 meters
closer to the beach at the site’s southwestern side. Both of these Units yielded little material in
the upper layers, which were dominated by dark, ashy soils, burned and cracked conch shell, and
innumerable rocks. This fill appeared to have been intentionally deposited in an effort to level
the seaward portion of the site, which was eroded and slopes considerably in places. In both
cases, but particularly in Unit B, we found a rich deposit underlying this fill. The bounty of
cultural and faunal material in these lower layers led me to open the 2 x 2 Unit C adjacent to Unit
B. Like its neighbor, it produced little in the upper levels, but a rich cultural deposit below the
fill that persisted right to bedrock. Unit D was a 50 x 50 test unit designed to examine the
constitution of the site’s interior. Here we did not observe the sterile fill noted in Units A-C.
Rather, Unit D produced a wealth of material from the surface to bedrock. To further explore
this feature, I placed the 1 x 1 meter Unit E one meter southwest of Unit D. Unit E was equally
productive, so I opened another 1 x 1 designated Unit F directly to its east so that together, Units
E and F formed a 1 x 2. Meanwhile, I directed that additional 50 x 50 test units be placed further
to the east, up the hill, to sample that part of the site. We did not establish a formal transect here,
but tied the test units into each other so that a rough grid pattern was formed. We were able to
complete three test units, G, H, and I. Unit G was established first in an area of denser surface
scatter, some 15 meters southeast of Unit A. It produced a bounty of cultural material,
comparable in volume to Units D, E, and F. Unit H was positioned further up the hill, 8 meters
due east of Unit G. It was less productive than G, but still yielded enough cultural material to
demonstrate that the deposit extends that far. Unit I was located 8 meters south of Unit G,
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toward the ridge. It contained little cultural material and was comprised mostly of the fill of dark
soils and plentiful rocks that we observed in Units A-C. Overall, our test units provided quite a
bit of information about the extent of the deposit. They indicate that Spud’s deposit is at least 20
meters square.
All units except Unit G were excavated by trowel and brush to bedrock or sterile soil.
Unit G was closed prior to bedrock because we ran out of time. All matrix was screened through
¼ inch hardware cloth mesh. The excavations produced 32 FS proveniences. Each FS
provenience for Units A, B, C, E, and F corresponds to an arbitrary 10 cm stratigraphic level.
Units A and B produced 4 Levels, Units C and E 5 Levels, and Unit F a remarkable 7 levels.
The test units D, G, H, and I were all given a single FS provenience. These test units were deep,
terminating between 43 and 52 cm below the surface. Although the site does slope toward the
sea, the grade is gradual and no unit was placed on a severe slope. Thus, the deposits at Spud
appear to be deeper than at any other site we excavated. This suggests a prolonged period of
occupation. It also reflects patterns of waste disposal that differ from those we observed at
Middleton. Spud has no fossil midden. If the residents were disposing their garbage on the
beach, it apparently was washed away before any lithification took place. In any event, this was
good news for the archaeologists, since the deposit at Spud is far better preserved than at its
sister site on the horizon.
Results
Overview. We collected ceramics from both the surface and subsurface deposits at
Spud. The combined ceramic assemblage from Spud consists of 300 sherds weighing a total of
1,551 grams (Table 5-3). Of these, 51 sherds weighing a combined 544 grams were obtained in
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the surface collection. This was not a scientific collection, so I exclude the surface ceramics
from this statistical analysis. This results in an assemblage of 249 sherds weighing a total of
1,007 grams. For the surface collection, I will only discuss the diagnostic sherds we recovered,
because these offer valuable insight into who was living at the site and when.
In the subsurface deposits, Palmetto ware was more common than imported ceramics,
accounting for 73.9% of the total assemblage by sherd count (Figure 5-51) but only 59.6% of the
total assemblage by weight (Figure 5-52). This indicates that there is some bias in these
numbers. The sherd count ratio is skewed by an abundance of small Palmetto ware sherds. The
reader will recall that Middleton assemblage was similarly skewed (but in that case by an
abundance of small imported sherds), and that I focused on the overall distribution of the ceramic
assemblage by weight to address this bias. I will use the same strategy here, but will also use
sherd count when speaking of particular units and features.
Vertical distribution. The vertical distribution analysis includes all 249 of the sherds
recovered from the subsurface deposits at Spud. Every Unit A-I produced ceramics (Figure 5-
53). Units E and F, which were positioned to form a single 1 x 2, accounted for more of the
ceramic material, by both sherd count and weight, than any other unit. Unit C was the next most
productive, which is logical as it was the only 2 x 2 meter unit we excavated at the site.
Interestingly, the small 50 x 50 cm Unit G was also quite productive, given its size and the fact
that we did not have time to complete it to bedrock. I discuss the specifics of the ceramics
recovered from these and every other unit in turn below.
Unit A was located near the water, a few meters back from a part of the deposit that was
eroding toward the sea, and in an area of dark soils and a robust scatter of broken mollusk shells
and fire cracked rock. Only 5 sherds weighing 40 grams were recovered from this 1 x 1 meter
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unit, yet two of these were highly decorated. The first is a shoulder sherd with a punctated lug
and engraved line executed in the Chican style. The second decorated sherd is from either the
shoulder or the flaring neck of a jar, and displayed two rows of large round punctations. These
alone are not diagnostic, and the sherd could be either Meillacan or Chican. Unit B was
positioned southwest of Unit A, adjacent to a limestone ledge near the beach at the southwestern
tip of the site. It also produced 5 imported sherds, weighing 63 grams, plus a single small piece
of Palmetto ware. Two of the imported sherds are decorated. The first is a large punctated
Meillacan sherd, with impressions that were smoothed over while the clay was still wet. The
second sherd is enigmatic but may have been part of an effigy vessel. It includes a flat lug
decorated with what may be an eye (Figure 5-54). It may be Chican given its orange-brown
paste, but there is not enough of it to be certain. The big 2 x 2 Unit C was situated adjacent to
Unit B and produced 55 sherds weighing 293 grams. Imports account for 14 sherds, and
Palmetto ware the remaining 41. None of the sherds recovered from this unit was decorated, but
one imported sherd had an unusual light gray paste and a sand temper that differs from the
typical Meillacan and Chican clays. We also observed one undecorated wedge-topped imported
rim and a flat-topped Palmetto ware rim. Units E and F were located inland from Units B and C
and formed a 1 x 2, so it is appropriate to discuss them together. These units combined to
produce the lion’s share of the subsurface ceramic assemblage, yielding 35 imported sherds
weighing 168 grams and 112 pieces of Palmetto Ware weighing 317 grams. Four of the
imported sherds are decorated, and two of these are rims. The first decorated body sherd is a tiny
fragment that bears the white slip associated with bottles of the Chican style (Figure 5-55). The
second has a single row of large triangular punctations on the inturned shoulder that appear to
have been produced by angling a large stylus downward into the clay. Because punctations are
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common to both Meillacan and Chican ceramics, it is not possible to classify this sherd on this
basis. The first decorated rim has a bevel top and features a cutting, incised line directly beneath
the lip. It is probably Meillacan given the cutting execution of the incised line, but the sherd is
too small to be certain. However, the second decorated rim is an everted, round-top piece that
features a series of pear-shaped punctations on an externally applied strip (Figure 5-56). This
piece is certainly Meillacan (see Rouse 1939:Plate 5, image 14 and the accompanying
description on page 202 of that volume for a comparable Meillacan sherd). All of the Palmetto
ware was undecorated but includes three rims, one each with a flat top, a flat-bevel top, and a
bevel top. We also identified a sherd with the chalky, pale-orange paste associated with Chican
bottles.
The four 50 x 50 test units also produced ceramics. Of these, Unit G was by far the most
productive. Its assemblage is dominated by Palmetto ware, which accounted for 33 sherds
weighing 63 grams, whereas only 2 plain imported body sherds weighing 17 grams were
recovered. Most of the Palmetto ware is small and fragmentary, but a single large rim sherd with
a flat top was identified. The exterior lip of the rim was rough, because the potter did not smooth
the exterior surface of the vessel after he or she had flattened the rim top. None of the remaining
test units was very productive. Unit D yielded 3 small, plain imported body sherds and 4 small
Palmetto body sherds. Unit H produced no imported pottery and only 8 small Palmetto body
sherds. Unit I was largely acultural, and contained only 1 small, plain, imported body sherd.
Although these units did not produce anything very interesting, that data was helpful in forming
a general hypothesis about how Spud was laid out, which I discuss in the ceramic assemblage
Analysis section below.
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Although the surface collection is not included in the statistical analysis it is appropriate
to discuss its notable sherds at this time. Among the 28 imported sherds are 3 plain rims, a
decorated rim, 3 decorated body sherds, a Chican lug, and a single chalky, pale orange Chican
bottle sherd. One of the plain rims appears to have come from a small, extremely thin and finely
made shallow bowl. The other plain rims have a rounded top and a flat top. The decorated rim
was part of a navicular vessel, and bears a row of punctations. Although this alone is
undiagnostic, it is probably Meillacan, for it has a very dark paste and felsic inclusions. Two of
the 3 decorated sherds are also punctated, and are possibly Chican given their orange-tan paste.
The third is definitely Meillacan, for it bears the classic wet-clay crosshatch motif associated
with that style. None of the Palmetto ware was decorated, but we did recover some large pieces.
The biggest was a griddle sherd weighing 113 grams that had eroded out of the deposit and was
found on the beach. It was the only griddle sherd we recovered at the site, and testifies that
manioc was part of the diet at Spud.
Horizontal distribution. The horizontal distribution includes the ceramics recovered
from Units A, B, C, E, and F. Recall that Test Units D, G, H, and I were assigned a single FS
provenience each. Because we did not collect specific depth data for these, it is not possible to
include them in the horizontal analysis. As it turns out this is not problematic, for these units
contributed only 36 of the 249 sherds we recovered from the subsurface deposits.
Ceramics were recovered in Levels 1 through 5. Although some units went into Levels 6
and 7, no ceramics were recovered in those contexts. Of the five ceramic bearing levels, Level 3
was the most productive in terms of ceramic weight (Figure 5-57). Level 3 is also dominated by
Palmetto ware and is the point at which the ceramic assemblage transitions from a majority of
imported ceramics in the lower Levels to a majority of Palmetto ware in the upper Levels. Both
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imported and domestically-manufactured ceramics occur throughout the deposit, but overall, the
data indicate that Palmetto ware became more common at the site over time.
Examining the horizontal provenience of diagnostically decorated sherds also sheds light
on this transition. Let us begin at the bottom, with Level 5. The white slipped Chican beer bottle
sherd (Figure 5-55) and the Meillacan rim (Figure 5-56) were recovered in Level 5 of the 1 x 2
formed by Units E and F. The possible Chican effigy vessel with its “eye” was recovered in
Level 4 of Unit B. Level 3 of Units A and B produced the punctated, red-slipped Meillacan neck
sherd and the Meillacan sherd with the smoothed-over punctations, respectively. Finally, Level
1 of Unit A yielded the classic Chican lug. From this, we see that diagnostically Meillacan
ceramics predominantly underlay Chican ceramics, although there is some admixture. This
could reflect cultural behavior, in which ceramics used at the site transitioned as Meillacan
ceramics were phased out in Hispaniola. Alternatively, it could be the result of bioturbation
from iguana or land crab burrows, or some other animal activity. In any case, it is significant
that Meillacan ceramics are not found above Level 3, which is the point at which the assemblage
transitions to be dominated by Palmetto ware and all the diagnostic imports are Chican. This
generally corresponds to what is known about regional ceramic timelines, and suggests that the
jump from Meillacan to Chican was not an abrupt break, but was effected over a period of time,
as archaeologists in the post-Rouse era have increasingly come to appreciate.
Analysis. As an extension of Middleton, Spud was first established by Meillacan-
affiliated peoples. Later, the residents increasingly incorporated imported Chican vessels as
these forms gradually replaced Meillacan ceramics in Hispaniola. But as we also observed at
Middleton, some Palmetto ware was incorporated into the Spud ceramic assemblage from the
beginning. This quite likely occurred for the same reasons as at Middleton, which I discussed
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earlier in this chapter. Still, there is a clear shift in the frequencies of ceramic types at Spud that
parallel those observed at its sister site. Overall, the similarities between the two sites’ ceramic
assemblages support the argument that Spud and Middleton were paired settlements that enjoyed
close social and economic ties throughout their existence.
At Spud, the lowest Levels 4 and 5 of the deposit contain a higher percentage of imported
ceramics than do the upper three Levels. Moreover, the decorated imported sherds recovered
from Levels 4 and 5 are predominantly Meillacan. This horizon clearly corresponds to the
Meillacan phase observed at Middleton. The middle Level 3 is a transitional phase where
imported ceramics first become outnumbered by Palmetto ware, presumably as this local ceramic
style became more widely available. Here we also observed a transition among the imported
ceramics from predominantly Meillacan to a mixed Meillacan/Chican assemblage. The
uppermost Levels 1 and 2 contain primarily Palmetto ware, with lower percentages of imported
Chican ceramics and no Meillacan ceramics whatsoever. As such, this upper horizon neatly
matches the Lucayan phase occupation of Middleton. Interestingly, this evidence also bolsters
the larger regional argument that the transition from one imported ceramic style to the next was
effected gradually. The data from Spud corroborates other evidence from both the Turks &
Caicos and Hispaniola that indicates both Meillacan and Chican styles coexisted for a period of
time around the 13th century AD (Keegan 2000:150-151). Additionally, the gradual transition
between ceramic styles observed at Spud suggests that the site, unlike Middleton, was not
abandoned for a protracted period of time. This raises some interesting questions about the
relationship between the two sites that will be explored at the end of the chapter.
Unfortunately, the ceramic data do not provide a comprehensive view of how the site was
spatially organized. Still, it is possible to formulate a general hypothesis from the ceramic
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record. First, it does appear that a large portion of the site nearest the beach (hereafter referred to
as the “seaward” section of the site) was filled by burning rock and conch shell in large fires.
The upper Levels of Units A, B, and C all exhibited this feature, which overlays the earlier
Meillacan phase deposit and indicates that the Lucayan phase residents were responsible for this
activity. Behind this area, toward the interior of the site where Units D, E, F, and G were
situated (hereafter the “interior” of the site), lay a productive deposit that yielded a great deal of
cultural and faunal material throughout both the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase. Behind
this feature, even further back from the beach where Unit I was located (hereafter the
“ridgeward” portion of the site), the site also appears to have been leveled with fill that included
very little subsurface cultural material. Admittedly, this assertion is based on data from this
single 50 x 50 cm Test Unit and is far from conclusive, but it suggests that this area of the site
may have been a central common area, or perhaps the location of housing. Unfortunately we did
not identify any potential structures during our brief visit so this is little more than speculation.
Moreover, there is no way to determine when this area was constructed, or by whom. I now turn
to the faunal record, which, fortunately, offers better insight into Spud’s spatial organization over
time.
Vertebrates. Spud’s deposits are well preserved, and we recovered vertebrate faunal
material from 28 of the 30 subsurface proveniences. My field notes are replete with observations
on what emerged from the screens, such as “Finding faunal materials right on the bedrock in A
and B. Lots of good fish bones.”; “Unit D has lots of faunal materials including a large iguana
vert.”; and “Unit E yielded faunal material including shark and iguana and many fish.” A full
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analysis of the material has not been completed, so all we can infer from these simple field notes
is that pelagic fish and iguana were captured.
Invertebrates. The invertebrate faunal assemblage was analyzed and provides
interesting clues as to how the site was occupied over time. It consists of 13 taxa and includes 9
mollusks, 3 corals, and a trace amount of the West Indian Fuzzy Chiton (Table 5-4). The queen
conch (Strombus gigas) was the most common mollusk. We collected 106 individuals, of which
76 were unmodified and 33 fashioned into a variety of shell tool forms. Most of these (n=21)
were picks of various sizes, although we also identified 7 small conch “knippers” that are
thought to be related to bead production (Carlson 1993, Jones O’Day and Keegan 2001:285-286)
and three nicely made conch-lip celts. We also recorded an impressive 111 liters of cracked and
broken conch. The second most abundant invertebrate was the West Indian Topsnail (Cittarium
pica) with an MNI of 51. This mollusk is easily collected from the rocky intertidals, and we
observed a healthy population of them on the rocks around Spud at low water. The remaining 7
taxa of mollusk are small creatures and occurred in limited amounts. These include 4 specimens
of Oliva sp., two of which were modified into beads, and 7 specimens of Olivella sp., one of
which was modified into a bead. We also identified 4 specimens of unmodified Chama sarda,
the mollusk that was prized as a raw material for beadmaking. The remaining 4 taxa of mollusk
are intriguing because we did not identify these species at any other site we excavated. We
identified one specimen each of Purpura patula, Bursa corrugata, and Astraea americana, and
two specimens of Cypraea zebra. All of these creatures inhabit either shallow or intertidal water
(Abbot and Morris 1995) and would likely have been collected from the bank. Finally, we
identified 3 species of coral in the assemblage. We recovered 247 grams of Acropora
cervicornis or Stag’s Horn coral, including 10 individual pieces that showed evidence of use
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wear. We also identified 214 grams of star corals (Monastrea sp.) and 487 grams of brain coral
(Diploria sp.). Most of the brain coral was found in the form of a single coral head about the
size of a cantaloupe that emerged from Unit G.
Analysis. The spatial distribution of the invertebrate faunal material amplifies and
refines the general hypothesis of site layout I described in the ceramic assemblage analysis
section above. It also demonstrates that different areas of the site were used differently in the
Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase. I will discuss the evidence for each of the seaward,
interior, and ridgeward areas of the site in turn below.
The seaward portion of the site, where Units A, B, and C were located, yielded almost all
of the 111 liters of burnt, cracked conch, 63 of the 76 intact/unmodified conch, and 49 of the 51
topsnail shells we recovered at the site. However, there is a distinct change in the distribution of
these materials between the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase. Let us begin at the bottom,
with the Meillacan phase. Most of the intact conch (54 of the 63 recovered from this area) and
topsnail shells (46 of the 49 recovered from this area) were obtained in the lowest 3 Levels. The
Meillacan phase Levels also produced more conch tools and tool pieces than the upper strata,
including 2 very small picks (<3 cm from tip to tip) that may have been employed as knippers, a
conch-lip celt, and a hoe. As discussed above in the ceramic analysis section, the Meillacan
phase Levels of the seaward area also yielded more ceramic material than the Lucayan phase
horizon in this area. From these facts, it seems as if the seaward portion of the site was a
midden/waste disposal area during the Meillacan phase. However, the Lucayan phase strata
suggest that this area was used differently during that period. Here the deposit is marked by a
large volume of burned and cracked conch pieces, most of the unmodified Solenastrea and
Diploria coral pieces, and innumerable rocks, with very few intact mollusk shells and little
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ceramic or other cultural material. However, 4 of the site’s 10 Acropora cervicornis abraders
were recovered in this context. Because we also identified some broken conch picks in these
Lucayan phase Levels, it is possible that they discarded these and the used abraders into the fill
once these tools were worn out. Overall, the fill may have been intentionally positioned here to
level this area, which does slope precipitously toward the water in places. If so, it could have
been used as a common area, or perhaps the newly-flattened surface was deemed suitable for
situating houses. In any case, it does not appear that the seaward area of Spud was primarily
used for waste disposal in the Lucayan phase.
About 10 meters toward the south sits the interior portion of the site, where Units D, E,
and F were situated. Here there were far fewer intact conch (n=13) and topsnail shells (n=2), but
again, these were not distributed evenly between the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase
deposits. In the Meillacan phase, we identified 9 of the 13 conch and both of the topsnails. The
Meillacan phase deposits also yielded the lion’s share of the rest of the mollusk assemblage,
including 2 of the 4 Oliva sp. (both were beads), all 7 of the Olivella sp., 5 of the 6 MNI of
Chama sarda, both specimens of Cypraea zebra, and the single specimens of both Purpura
patuala and Bursa corregata. Moreover, we found 7 broken pick tips/knippers in context with
these other mollusks, as well as 3 Acropora cervicornis abraders. All of these materials were
recovered in Levels 4-7 of the 1 x 2 formed by Units E and F.
The presence of several uncommon mollusks in the Meillacan phase of the interior
portion of the site poses an interesting question: How were they using these mollusks? All of
these are small creatures no more than a few inches in length. Their small size, fragmentary
nature, and the fact that few specimens were recovered suggests that these were not captured as
food items. Rather, these mollusks may have been desired for their pretty shells or other
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interesting properties. For example, the Wide-Mouthed Purpura mollusk (Purpura patula) may
have been collected for use as a colorant. The animal “Gives off a permanent purple dye”
(Abbot and Morris 1995:215) that possibly could have been employed as a body decoration.
Such practice was common in the Bahamas and was executed in a variety of forms. In his first
description of the Lucayans in the Diario on October 12, 1492, Columbus noted “some of them
paint themselves with white, and some of them with red, and some of them with whatever they
find. And some of them paint their faces, and some of them the whole body, and some of them
only the eyes, and some of them only the nose” (Dunn and Kelley 1989:67). Although
Columbus does not specifically mention purple body art, this mode could fall under “whatever
they find,” particularly on a resource-deficient small cay where pigments from terrestrial sources
would have been more scarce. Alternatively, the dye could have been used to color the cotton
“shorts” or loincloths that women wore (Dunn and Kelley 1989:91,255,271), although Columbus
did not comment on the color of these garments. The remaining two mollusks feature shells with
a range of colors that could have been attractive to Spud’s beadmakers. The Measled Cowrie
(Cypraea zebra) sports a “purplish brown” shell, and the Gaudy Frog-shell (Bursa corrugata) a
“yellowish brown” shell (Abbot and Morris 1995:141,194). Perhaps the beadmakers sought to
add a little variety to their trade by expanding the range of bead colors. It would be interesting to
have a malacologist examine the beads and bead blanks recovered from Spud and other
Bahamian sites to determine if these species were actually employed in that manner.
Alternatively, these colored mollusks could have been captured for manufacture into fishing
lures. The residents of Spud certainly had ample need for such implements, given that one of the
primary reasons they were there was to harvest fish from open water. In particular, the Measled
Cowrie “could have been used as an octopus lure” (William Keegan, personal communication
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2009). Hopefully future excavations will yield more concrete evidence of this behavior,
although we did discover one potential fishing implement that I discuss shortly.
In contrast to the Meillacan phase, the Lucayan phase of the interior portion of Spud is
largely devoid of invertebrate faunal material. As I noted in my field journal: “All of Units D
and E and F had far less than 1 liter of crushed conch and very few rocks as well. It must have
been cleared of these things.” Beyond that, we only identified an Acropora cervicornis abrader
and a single piece of a Chama sarda shell. Although this portion of the deposit was rich in
vertebrate faunal material, it appears as if the Lucayan phase residents were disposing of their
mollusk shells elsewhere, probably in the seaward fill area, given the enormous volume of
material associated with the Lucayan phase there. This situation is puzzling, for I cannot think of
a reason one would dispose fish bones in one area and mollusk shell in another. Unfortunately,
the limited data from this provenience do nothing to resolve this issue, and are mute as to how
the interior portion of Spud was used in the Lucayan phase.
Test Units G and H were also situated in the interior portion of the site. These were
designed only to test the extent of the deposit and were not broken out by Level, so it is not
possible to view the data from these in terms of the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase.
However, we discovered that Unit G was quite productive, and thus was still situated on the main
deposit. Unit H was less productive and apparently more on the deposit’s periphery. The most
notable invertebrate fauna from Unit G consisted of the American Star-shell (Astraea americana)
mollusk, which is colored like the other unusual creatures from the interior portion, but in this
case with a “greenish” hue (Abbot and Morris 1995:204). This Unit also produced the large
brain coral head. Interestingly, it was recovered in context with a possible beadmaking platform:
a large, flat, smooth rock that had a central depression worn into it. The brain coral could have
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been used to round the drilled blanks by repeatedly dragging a string of them back and forth over
its surface. I will discuss Spud’s remarkable beadmaking enterprise in detail shortly.
Little can be said about how the ridgeward portion of the site was used. Recall that time
constraints precluded us from excavating anything more than a single 50 x 50 cm test unit (Unit
I) in this area. The matrix in this Unit was very different from that of the other 50 x 50 Test
Units and appeared similar to that of the Lucayan phase fill in the seaward portion of the site. As
I noted in my field journal: “Unit I has much darker soil and is very rocky compared to the other
50 x 50s… [It] is full of dark soil, rocks, and burned and cracked conch just like the early layers
of A-C.” It appears that the ridgeward portion of the site does not include much of a cultural
subsurface deposit, although clearly, one small test unit does not make that assertion
unassailable. If Spud’s residents were filling in this area, what they did with it afterward remains
a mystery. Any meaningful insight into how this portion of the site was used will depend on
future research.
Beads. We recovered more evidence for beadmaking here at Spud than at any other site
we excavated during the entire field school. We recovered 55 total beads and bead blanks
(Figure 5-58). The majority, 46, were disk-shaped blanks. Six of the blanks were drilled, but
none had been rounded or completely finished. Of the 46 disk blanks, 31 were manufactured
from “the thin lip of a young adult Strombus gigas” (William Keegan, personal communication
2009). These blanks are creamy-white, and retain a sheen, but not the pink color, of the original
material. Nine blanks were made of the bright red Chama sarda mollusk and one from a
brownish shell that may have been a Measled Cowrie or perhaps a Triton’s Trumpet. The
remaining four disk-shaped blanks were crafted from an unknown material. Of the nine other
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types of beads, we identified 4 Olivella beads, 3 Oliva beads, a single bead made from the drilled
shell of a small, unidentified conical mollusk. However, this item was double-drilled, so it could
also be a fishing lure or net weight. We also recovered a double-drilled, semi-circular fragment
crafted from what appears to be Cittarium pica. It may be part of a pendant, although Keegan
(personal communication 2009) suggested it could also be a fishing lure. It does appear to have
been polished to a high sheen, which would bolster his argument.
Because the beads were found all across the site, it is useful to discuss them provenience
by provenience. The seaward area of the site that included Units A, B, and C yielded 8 beads: 5
round blanks, 2 Oliva beads, and the double-drilled item that is either a pendant or a fishing lure.
Unit A produced a single item: the double-drilled item, in Level 4. It had been partially charred,
perhaps by the heat generated by the fires that were used to reduce the conch shell and rocks and
create the fill in the upper levels of the seaward area. Unit B yielded a single round blank in
Level 3. Unit C produced a round blank and Oliva bead in Level 1, a round blank in Level 3,
and 2 round blanks and an Oliva bead in Level 5.
The lion’s share of beads was identified in the interior portion of the site, primarily in the
1 x 2 formed by Units E and F. Here, beads were identified in every Level 1-6. For the
combined 1 x 2, Level 1 produced 2 round blanks. Level 2 yielded 8 round blanks and an
Olivella bead. Interesting, 4 of the 6 drilled beads we recovered from the whole site were among
the 8 round blanks identified in this provenience. Level 3 produced one round blank and an
Olivella bead. Level 4 was the most productive of all proveniences at the site, and produced 12
round blanks, the drilled unidentified-to-species (hereafter UID) conical shell bead, an Oliva
bead, an Olivella bead, and 4 unmodified Olivella shells. Level 4 was also highly productive,
yielding 13 round blanks (2 of which were drilled), and an unmodified Olivella shell. Finally,
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Level 6 produced 3 round blanks. Three other blanks were recovered in the interior area from
Test Units G and H. Unit G produced a single Olivella bead, as well as the large brain coral
boulder and the possible beadmaking platform discussed earlier. Unit H accounted for the
remaining 2 round blanks. Because the Test Units were not broken out by Level there is no
further provenience for these items. No beadmaking evidence was recovered from the ridgeward
portion of the site, but again, we only excavated the single 50 x 50 cm Test Unit I in this area.
Analysis. Although beadmaking activity seems to have permeated the site there are clear
trends in the data. First, it is apparent that beadmaking activities were most commonly executed
in the interior of the site, where 47 of the 55 beads and blanks were identified. Second,
beadmaking activities seem concentrated in the Meillacan phase strata of the deposit, from Level
4 downward. Of the 52 beads that have depth provenience data, we identified 35 beads and
blanks from the Meillacan phase strata, compared to only 13 in the Lucayan phase strata.
Interestingly, only 4 beads and blanks were recovered in the transitional Level 3. Even if these
are aggregated into the Lucayan phase figures, beads and blanks from the Meillacan phase
deposit still outnumber those from the Lucayan phase deposits by more than 2 to 1. Although
these numbers are compelling, it is prudent to remember that our limited excavations hardly
remove the possibility of sample bias. Future excavations that include fine-screen analysis of all
matrix will refine our understanding of how beadmaking activities were distributed at Spud
across time and space. For the purposes of this dissertation, it is enough to appreciate that Spud
had a dedicated beadmaking industry throughout its existence, which may have been more
prevalent earlier in the site’s history.
The data indicate that both the Meillacan phase and the Lucayan phase residents of Spud
had an active beadmaking industry, undoubtedly for all of the reasons discussed earlier in this
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dissertation. The question is, who controlled it, and how did it factor into Spud’s relationship
with its sister site at Middleton? Assuming that Spud was the secondary site in the settlement
pair, it is hardly conceivable that the chief and his elite lineage at Middleton would have
permitted everyone at Spud to independently make so many beads for their own purposes. Such
behavior would not only undermine the Middleton chief’s power base, but also cut heavily into
his profits from trade in beads with Hispaniola. There are three possible ways the Middleton
chief could prevent this. First, Spud may have had a secondary chief, allied via blood or
marriage to the Middleton chief, to control bead manufacture on his behalf. Appointing a trusted
relative to oversee beadmaking activities would ensure that the Middleton elites controlled the
bead trade. Second, there could have been a system of tribute, in which the secondary chief and
the residents of Spud were obliged to produce some quantity of beads for delivery to the elites at
Middleton. Perhaps the secondary chief was entitled to any surplus, perhaps not, but in any case,
a quota system would have placed limits on the amount of beads, and thus economic and social
power, that the residents of Spud could accumulate. William Keegan (personal communication
2009) proposed the final alternative. Given the site’s smaller size, he suspects the site was semi-
permanently occupied and that elites were not in permanent residence. In his scenario,
“Craftsmen and fishermen would go to Spud, perhaps under the leadership of an elite [from
Middleton], and perform productive tasks.” They would visit when the fishing in the channel
and open water was good, and to make beads during slower times. Even though decorated
ceramics and other items associated with status (see the “Lithics” section below) were identified
at Spud, these “served to reinforce the significance of their activities” but cannot conclusively
prove the presence of a permanent elite. By way of comparison, he mentions the Governor’s
Beach site on Grand Turk and the Clifton site on New Providence in the Bahamas. As the reader
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will recall, Governor’s Beach was a seasonal beadmaking site, but it yielded items associated
with elites: an exotic porcupine-fish effigy vessel, a bat effigy vessel, and Triton’s Trumpet shell
horn (Keegan 2007:89-90). The Clifton site likewise produced evidence of status items via a
high frequency of decorated ceramics. It too was only occupied seasonally, possibly in the
summer months, over a period of perhaps as much as 300 years (Vernon 2008). Certainly, Spud
could fit this profile. However, the presence of a large griddle sherd at Spud suggests that the
population was more demographically diverse (i.e. there were women there cooking manioc)
than either Governor’s Beach or Clifton, which are thought to have been settled only by men
(Keegan 2007:88, Vernon 2008:34-35). If Spud is a seasonal or semi-permanent settlement, it
was on a larger scale that included adults of both sexes, and probably some children as well.
Because a fuller range of domestic activities occurred at Spud, it is more complex than a simple
beadmaking or fishing outpost. As such, it still fits into the settlement pairing model described at
the beginning of the chapter.
Lithics. We recovered three items produced from exotic, imported stone. Two are
related to bead production (Figure 5-59), and were identified in the Lucayan phase Levels of the
1 x 2 formed by Units E and F. The first item is a single pink-chert flake from Unit E, Level 1.
The second is a chert core, from which small chert flakes had clearly been removed, that was
identified in Unit F, Level 2. As discussed in the Middleton section above, small chert flakes
were used in manioc graters and as drill bits to perforate bead blanks. Given their association
with the many beads recovered from the Lucayan phase of Units E and F it seems logical that
this material was used in a beadmaking capacity.
The third stone item is one of the more spectacular artifacts we recovered during the
entire field school. This small cemi is carved from Hispaniolan greenstone, and depicts a
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stylized human face (Figures 4-60 and 4-61). The shape of the eyes and mouth, and the clearly
depicted ear spools, indicate a Classic Taino affiliation. It measures 8 cm by 8 cm, and its
obverse is smooth and concave. Unfortunately there is no provenience data for the cemi. During
a lunch break, I discovered the cemi partially buried in the sand on the beach in the intertidal. It
was situated directly adjacent to an eroded area of the seaward portion of the site near Unit A,
and apparently had eroded out of the nearby deposit. It had been on the beach for some time,
since there were a number of calcite accretions on the item.
A cursory comparison to several representations on effigy vessels and carved stone
artifacts from Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic reveals some similarities (Alegria
1997:30; Arrom 1997:49-50; Roe 1997:104), so the image depicted on the item may represent
one of the Tainos’ mythical deities. However, it seems most like the carved stone guaizas
described by Oliver (2009). A guaiza was a prominent exchange item used to symbolize
alliances among Taino elites. According to Oliver “[G]uaizas were highly visible gifts in
alliance formations” and were “uniquely singled out as the item to be gifted to strangers and
foreign caciques” (2009:155-156, emphasis his). Although the cemi is clearly an important
discovery, a detailed analysis of its iconography, how it was used at Spud, and what it tells us
about the broader relationship between the Lucayans and the Classic Taino is beyond the scope
of this project. Still, the cemi provides prima facie evidence for an elite presence at Spud, even
if it was impermanent. Moreover, it testifies to ongoing contact between the Turks & Caicos
settlements and the classic Taino chiefdoms of Hispaniola, and suggests a strong cultural link
between the two areas that included a shared worldview. I will explore this matter in greater
detail in a future publication.
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Three radiocarbon dates were obtained from Spud. All three were obtained from
charcoal samples that were specifically selected to establish the chronology of a particular
provenience. All samples were submitted to Beta Analytic for AMS analysis, and all were
calibrated.
The first sample was collected from Unit E, Level 6. This provenience is at the bottom of
the Meillacan phase occupation in the interior portion of the site. I selected it because the
charcoal lay below the lowest Meillacan ceramics we identified at the site, in an ashy layer
directly atop sterile sand. My objective in selecting this date was to establish the time that the
Meillacan phase commenced. It was assigned designation Beta 242672. The intercept of the
radiocarbon age with calibration curve occurred at Cal AD 1160 +/- 40, with a two-sigma range
of Cal AD 1030 to 1220 (Appendix C).
The second sample was collected from Unit E, Level 5, which lay directly above the
provenience for the first sample. It was situated in the same provenience as the Meillacan rim
(Figure 5-56) in Level 5 of Unit E and was directly adjacent to the white slipped Chican beer
bottle sherd in Unit F, Level 5. I specifically selected this sample to further date the Meillacan
phase deposit. It was also associated with 3 MNI of Cittarium pica, a large conch pick, a small
conch-lip adze, and 6 bead blanks executed from Chama sarda, conch, and several UID
materials. It was assigned designation Beta 242671. For this sample, the radiocarbon age
intercepted with the calibration curve at three points: Cal AD 1320 +/- 40, Cal AD 1350 +/- 40,
and Cal AD 1390 +/- 40, with a two-sigma range of Cal AD 1290 to 1420 (Appendix C).
The third charcoal sample was collected from the very bottom of Unit A, Level 4, where
it lay directly on the bedrock. This Level included 17 intact conch, 3 conch picks, 10 Cittarium
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pica shells, and one medium, undecorated, imported body sherd of unknown classification.
However, a Chican lug was recovered from Level 1 of this Unit. Although the charcoal itself
was not associated with any diagnostic material, the fact that it was situated on the bedrock
suggests that it represents the beginning of this part of the settlement. It was assigned
designation Beta 242670. The intercept of the radiocarbon age with the calibration curve
occurred only once at Cal AD 1290 +/- 40, but the calibration of the two-sigma range yielded
two possible date ranges, Cal AD 1260 to 1320 and Cal AD 1350-1390 (Appendix C).
Analysis. The radiocarbon dates obtained from Spud are intriguing, and in addition to
formulating a local chronology, may even have some broader regional significance. The most
obvious conclusion one can draw from Spud’s dates is that it and Middleton were occupied at the
same time, beginning in the 12th century AD, and persisted for at least two centuries thereafter.
This was predicted by the theoretical argument concerning settlement pairs, and is in line with
the excavated data that shows much similarity between the material culture of Middleton and
Spud, first in the Meillacan phase, and later in the Lucayan phase.
The first sample obtained from Unit E, Level 6 was dated to AD 1160 with a range of AD
1030 to 1220. This is nearly identical to the earliest date obtained from Middleton, which was
AD 1160 with a range of AD 1040 to 1260. Remarkably, these dates also mesh perfectly with
one I obtained from the Meillacan-era beadmaking site of MC-8/MC-10 on the south coast of
Middle Caicos in the course of my Master’s Thesis research. That sample of charcoal was also
chosen “because its provenience at the bottom of one of the deepest and most productive units
seemed to represent the earliest occupation level” at MC-10 (Sinelli 2001:87). It also was dated
to Cal AD 1160 with a two-sigma range of AD 1020 to 1240 (Sinelli 2001:Appendix C). This
data indicates that all three sites were established about the same time, presumably as people
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from Hispaniola sojourned to the Turks & Caicos to collect foodstuffs and manufacture beads for
export.
The second date from Unit E, Level 5 is spatially close to that obtained from the
provenience directly beneath it. As such, I expected the two dates to be temporally close as well.
However, the second sample returned with a date with multiple intercepts (AD 1320, AD 1350,
AD 1390) that cluster around AD 1355—a full two centuries later. This suggests that Spud was
less intensively occupied than Middleton in the Meillacan phase, so that the cultural deposit
accumulated more slowly over time. Alternatively, it could reflect patterns of site usage or waste
disposal. As I have discussed, our test excavations provided only a general idea of how Spud
was organized and there are many lingering questions as to how different areas of the site were
used over time. In any case, the most intriguing aspect of this date is its association with
unquestionably Meillacan ceramics. To my knowledge, the most recent date for Meillacan
ceramics in the Turks & Caicos is AD 1280 at GT-2 on Grand Turk (Keegan 2000:150-151)
Thus, identifying diagnostically decorated Meillacan ceramics from the middle of the 14th
century at Spud pushes the local timeframe for these ceramics forward by decades. Additionally,
the presence of a white-slipped Chican sherd located in the same provenience adds to the
growing body of evidence that Meillacan ceramics did not “give way to Chican cultures about
AD 1200” (Rouse 1992:97), but that the two styles continued to be manufactured—and actively
used, apparently by the same people!—for at least another century and a half.
The final date from the bottom of Unit A, Level 4 was situated at bedrock, well below the
Chican lug identified in Level 1. It produced a date of AD 1290, but a dual two-sigma range of
AD 1260 to 1320 and AD 1350 to 1390. These results tell us two things. First, the Lucayan
phase very likely postdates AD 1290. This argument is also supported by the AD 1320-1350-
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1390 date obtained from Unit E, Level 5. This provenience included both Meillacan and Chican
ceramics, and the Chican sherd from this provenience was the lowest, stratigraphically speaking,
of any Chican pottery we recovered at the site. As such, it is presumably the oldest Chican sherd
in my assemblage, and indicates that Chican ceramics were not widely used at Spud until the
early to mid 14th century. Second, it shows that this part of the site was not heavily used when
the site was first established. The presence of charcoal on bedrock at AD 1290 indicates that the
Meillacan phase residents who founded the site around AD 1160 did not use the seaward area
around Unit A, but instead discarded their material further to the southwest near Units B and C.
This suggests that Spud was a small-scale, perhaps semi-permanent settlement early in the
Meillacan phase. It was not until perhaps late in the Meillacan phase or early in the Lucayan
phase that the site expanded to the east and northeast. At this time, the fill deposits were created
and subsequently used by the Lucayan phase residents. I lack enough data to determine exactly
why they did this, or how they used the area after they filled it in, but my hunch is that they
expanded the site to accommodate a growing regional population. If so, then Spud was
established as a larger-scale settlement sometime around AD 1290. I expand on this hypothesis
and what it tells us about the relationship between Spud and Middleton in the next section.
Interpretation of Middleton and Spud
To appreciate the significance of Middleton and Spud, it is necessary to discuss them in
context with other contemporaneous sites in the area. Here I focus only on the Caicos Bank: I
incorporate all of the Turks & Caicos sites into a broad regional overview in Chapter 7. Because
the earliest dates from both sites occur at AD 1160, let us begin with the Meillacan phase in the
middle of the 12th century. Thereafter I will discuss the Lucayan phase.
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The Meillacan Phase: AD 1160 to Circa AD 1300.
The data clearly indicate that Meillacan peoples from northern Hispaniola began to
colonize the Caicos islands in the middle of the 12th century. There are five Meillacan sites in
Caicos islands from this period described here and elsewhere in the literature. Middleton, Spud,
and MC-8/MC-10 all produced a date of AD 1160. (Although I did not obtain a radiocarbon date
from MC-8, it is directly adjacent to MC-10 and the ceramic assemblages are virtually identical.
Thus I believe that the two sites are actually one large site and the deposits there reflect that
Meillacan peoples used the same general area over a protracted period of time. As such it is best
to view them as a single entity.) Site P-5 on Providenciales produced a date of AD 1170
(Keegan et al. 1994:31). Finally, the site on Horse Cay off the north coast of South Caicos has a
Meillacan component, and is therefore likely to be related to this Meillacan colonization event.
However we could not excavate that site, we did not obtain a radiocarbon date from it, and the
deposits appear to have been largely destroyed by tidal surges. Although I can only discuss this
site in general, speculative terms, it is worth factoring into the equation for reasons that will soon
become apparent. Additionally, there are Meillacan sites in the Ambergris Cays (Brian Riggs,
personal communication 2004). However these have not been examined and nothing is known
about them beyond the fact that they exist.
It is remarkable that multiple settlements appear to have been simultaneously established
in the Caicos by colonists from another land. Clearly, some particular set of circumstances in
Hispaniola led Meillacan peoples to strike northward, and I argue that the impetus for the initial
Meillacan colonization was economic. Evidence from the Haitian site Ile à Rat supports this
hypothesis. This site is thought to have been a subsidiary of an inland Hispaniolan cacicazgo
and was charged with procuring marine protein: “Given the absence of significant populations of
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terrestrial fauna, specialized fishermen living on the coast would have been crucial to the
survival of inland settlements on Hispaniola” (Keegan 2007:60). Very likely, the Meillacan
colonization of the Caicos islands was undertaken to enhance the food security of these inland
settlements.
The manner in which the Middleton and Spud were initially established is not readily
apparent, but comparative data suggest that they began as temporary encampments. MC-8/MC-
10 on Middle Caicos provides the best evidence for this. The ceramic assemblage is most
instructive. Locally-produced Palmetto ware accounted for only 199 of the 10,585 grams
(1.88%) of ceramics from the site (Sinelli 2001:84,89). Pots are necessary to subsistence, but
they also have a limited life span. Because “Pottery is too fragile to rely upon foreign sources to
meet daily requirements” (Keegan 2007:184), the fact that almost all of the pots were brought
from Hispaniola strongly suggests that MC-8/MC-10 was occupied on a sporadic, temporary
basis. If MC-8/MC-10 can be viewed as a proxy for Spud and Middleton—and given the
identical radiocarbon dates, it can—then it follows that these sites were also temporary camps in
their infancy.
In the beginning, it is not clear how many of the Meillacan sites were occupied at the
same time. The identical AD 1160 radiocarbon dates from Middleton, Spud, and MC-8/MC-10
and the AD 1170 date from P-5 would seem to suggest that these sites were all inhabited
simultaneously. However, radiocarbon dating is a blunt instrument, and the 2-sigma date ranges
from these sites certainly raise the possibility that occupations could have occurred decades
apart. As such, there are several possible scenarios, which admittedly, are little more than
informed speculation. In the first, a large group of coastal Hispaniolans visited the Caicos
Islands on a regular basis and fanned out across the islands. Some would settle at Middleton,
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others at Spud, and so on. They would do their business, then depart for home when they had
procured all they could transport. Perhaps they rendezvoused to form a convoy. There is safety
in numbers, and making the return voyage en masse would provide a sort of insurance that the
cargo was evenly distributed and “all the beads weren’t in one canoe.” Or perhaps, occupants of
any particular island simply departed for home when their canoes could hold no more, leaving
the rest to follow when they were ready. The second possibility is that a single small group
voyaged to the Caicos Islands and made the rounds to various locales, extracting what they could
in each area before departing for home. Finally, a small group could have visited a different site
every time they came to the Caicos: Middleton on one voyage, MC-8/MC-10 on the next, and so
forth. Of the three possibilities, I find the first scenario most plausible. If their entire purpose in
the Caicos was to collect as much food as possible for the inland communities of Hispaniola,
then a large-scale effort makes the most sense. Many fishermen in many canoes on a single trip
provides an economy of scale that surpasses that of a small group making multiple voyages
across hazardous waters. Moreover, distributing a large group across the Caicos Bank would
expand their overall catchment area and not over-harvest any particular zone. Finally, it would
reduce the amount of time men were absent from their duties at home, and ensure that jobs
performed by men (e.g. clearing the fields) were fulfilled. In any case, it is not possible to
determine which of these scenarios actually played out given the current data. These are merely
hypotheses, and all that can be stated for certain is that 4 or 5 Meillacan sites were established
about the same time in the Caicos Islands.
The first fishermen who voyaged from Hispaniola to Middleton, Spud, MC-8/MC-10, P-
5, and perhaps Horse Cay did so to harvest foodstuffs for export to their homeland. Yet all the
evidence indicates that beadmaking soon became an important part of the economy. As
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discussed earlier in this chapter, beadmaking was ancillary to their primary mission. Yet all of
these sites (save Horse Cay) have ample evidence of a dedicated beadmaking industry, including
P-5, where “there were Chama and Strombus shell beads in various stages of manufacture [and]
a large chert core…on the surface” (Keegan et al. 1994:17). This suggests that beadmaking was
adopted almost immediately, as soon as the pioneers discovered the local deposits of “red gold”.
The evidence for beadmaking in the very bottom of the Meillacan phase deposits of Middleton
and Spud corroborate this assertion. Thereafter, it is clear that beadmaking remained an
important part of the economic output of the region throughout prehistory.
It is difficult to know exactly when the Hispaniolans stopped visiting the Caicos Islands
temporarily and set up permanent shop there. However, it is apparent that the region was
becoming more intensively and permanently occupied in the latter half of the 13th century.
Beginning around AD 1280, new sites began popping up around the islands in what Keegan et al.
describe as “something of a population explosion” (1994:50). At this time, MC-32 (AD 1284)
and MC-36 (AD 1280) appear on Middle Caicos, PC-1 (AD 1290) is established on Pine Cay,
and P-1 (AD 1284) emerges on Providenciales (Keegan et al. 1994:31). This “explosion” was
likely caused by a combination of migration from other islands and natural population growth
that occurred as the Caicos Islands residents enjoyed the bounty of the environment that drew the
early Meillacan colonists in the first place.
It is a challenge to state with certainty when Middleton became a permanent settlement.
However, the regional “population explosion” coincides with the time in which Spud is
physically expanded: recall the AD 1290 radiocarbon date obtained from charcoal atop the
bedrock under the fill in the seaward portion of the site. This suggests that resources had come
under pressure at Middleton, and that it was time to establish an alternate paired site to more
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fully expand the catchment. If so, then it is possible that Middleton hosted a permanent
population in the first half of the 13th century. This may also be when Horse Cay began to play
an important role. Perhaps the Middleton-Spud-Horse Cay settlements formed a sort of
settlement “triad,” with Middleton hosting the primary, permanent settlement and smaller subsets
of society relocating to Spud and Horse Cay on a semi-permanent basis as conditions dictated.
Indeed, perhaps that segment of the population alternated time between Spud and Horse Cay.
Both sites are approximately the same size, and importantly, sit in different environments and
resource zones. With its access to the channel and open water, Spud would have been attractive
during the seasons when waters were calmer (winter and spring) and fishing and lobstering was
easy and productive. During the summer and fall months when seas were higher and the threat
of tropical cyclones ever-present, the population could relocate to Horse Cay where waters were
always still and conch and bonefish ubiquitous. Both sites are sufficiently distant from
Middleton to minimize catchment overlap. Also, both are located less than a kilometer from the
large land mass of South Caicos, which would have offered wood for fires and structures, arable
land for gardens, and probably a fresh water source. Unfortunately I cannot test this hypothesis
given the lack of data from Horse Cay. However, it makes sense given the theoretical logic of
population growth forcing settlement pairing, and the geographic, climatological, and
biogeographic realities of this area of the Caicos Bank.
It is apparent that MC-08/MC-10 was not permanently occupied. Because more than
98% of the diagnostically decorated sherds are Meillacan (Sinelli 2001:96-100), the site was
probably abandoned prior to the 14th century. Admittedly, this assertion is based upon the
“conventional wisdom” challenged by the presence of Meillacan ceramics around AD 1355 at
Spud. Still, the almost complete dearth of Chican ceramics at the site strongly suggests that it
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was abandoned before this style became widely available, for which a date of AD 1300 remains
appropriate. In any event, the question of “why” MC-8/MC-10 was abandoned is more
intriguing than “when,” and exploring this question sheds light on the relationships between
Caicos Island sites in the Meillacan phase. Recall site MC-12 on the north coast of Middle
Caicos. Three radiocarbon dates from this site range from as early as AD 1040 to AD 1282
(Keegan et al. 1994:31, Carlson 1999:144). Thus, the Meillacan wave that settled the region
beginning around AD 1170 was not the first colonization of the Caicos Islands—people had been
living there for more than a century. Moreover, the Meillacan peoples who fanned out across the
islands coexisted with the residents of MC-12 throughout the Meillacan phase. Indeed, MC-12
was occupied until the late 15th century, at the same time as nearby MC-32 as well as MC-6 on
the southern coast of the island (Keegan 2007:162).
Although the sites are coeval, there are compelling differences between MC-8/MC-10
and MC-12. The first is in the ceramic assemblages. More than 98% of the ceramics at MC-
8/MC-10 are Meillacan, with a handful of Palmetto ware. In contrast, MC-12 offers the earliest
definite evidence for Palmetto ware in the Caicos islands, so “by AD 1000 one identifiable
element of Lucayan culture had emerged” in the region (Keegan 2007:90). In fact, 95% of the
assemblage at MC-12 is Palmetto ware, with the remaining 5% somewhat evenly split between
Meillacan and Chican (Keegan 2007:139). This suggests that the initial residents of MC-12
hailed not from Hispaniola, but the central Bahamas to the north, where Palmetto ware was in
use as early as AD 660 (Berman and Gnivecki 1991; Rouse 1992:100-101). Second, there is no
mention of beadmaking activity at MC-12. A 10 x 10 meter unit was excavated at the site in
1982, so if such behavior were taking place, it is reasonable to assume it would have been
detected. The lack of beadmaking at MC-12 reinforces the idea that these people were not from
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Hispaniola, for all of the excavated Meillacan phase sites in the Caicos Islands show evidence for
beadmaking. Between the ceramic assemblages and the disparity in beadmaking activity, it
seems clear that the residents of MC-12 had a cultural identity distinct from that of the Meillacan
colonists from Hispaniola. They probably traced their immediate roots to the central Bahamas,
and from there to Cuba (Berman and Gnivecki 1995). If the Meillacan people and the residents
of MC-12 were culturally distinct, then it appears that at least three discrete cultures were present
in the Turks & Caicos Islands in the 12th century. Recall the Coralie site on Grand Turk. Its
Ostionan ceramic assemblage is unique in the region, and suggests an affiliation with eastern
Hispaniola. I find it fascinating to consider how these multiple cultures may have interacted to
influence the development of the Lucayan culture that was so ubiquitous in the Turks & Caicos
in the 14th and 15th centuries. That, however, is a topic for future research.
I believe that these ethnic differences played some role in the abandonment of MC-
8/MC-10 and the rise of a permanent settlement at Middleton. This is plausible because there is
no economic reason Meillacan- and Palmetto-producing peoples could not have both lived on
Middle Caicos. Any settlement on the south side of Middle Caicos would not have imposed on
the resource base exploited by MC-12 on the north coast. Recall from Chapter 2 that the people
of MC-12 relied heavily on fish from the reefs and waters on the north coast of the island that lay
within a 5 km radius of the site. In contrast, sites like MC-8/MC-10 and MC-6 on the south
coast of the island exploited conch and other resources from the Caicos Bank. In short, there is
no overlap among the catchments, so there should be no significant competition for resources.
This point is bolstered by the fact that MC-12 and MC-6 coexisted in the 15th century. If the
larger settlement at MC-6 did not encroach upon the food resources of MC-12, then there is no
reason to believe that the much smaller, temporary camps at MC-8/MC-10 did either. Instead, I
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believe that the people who had lived at MC-12 for generations by AD 1160 were not amenable
to foreigners living on their island. Neither they nor the Meillacan phase people seemed to adopt
much of the other’s culture or technology, which suggests that relations were kept at arm’s
length. The lack of any shared culture or worldview with their neighbors could have resulted in
tension that caused the less-established Meillacan peoples to leave Middle Caicos for other
options in the region, specifically Middleton Cay.
The evidence from the Meillacan phase at Middleton and Spud shows that Meillacan
peoples intended to maintain their unique cultural identity as they settled the region more
permanently. Recall the limited evidence of contact between these people of Middleton and
Spud and the residents of MC-12 discussed above. William Keegan (personal communication
2009) suggests that cultural differences in food preparation may have limited the utility of
Palmetto pots to the Meillacan phase residents of Middleton and Spud. Palmetto pots, with their
outward-flaring rims, were not as suitable to boiling food as the Meillacan vessels with
constricted openings. As such, the Meillacan phase residents of Middleton relied primarily upon
imports of appropriate vessels from Haiti. The limited amount of Palmetto ware that they did
employ was perhaps used as a last resort, when imported pots were scarce prior to a new
shipment, or perhaps only for preparing certain kinds of dishes. That the residents of Middleton
went to the trouble to import their ceramics rather than adopt local technology is a clear
indication that they intended to preserve and replicate their Hispaniolan lifeways as completely
as possible in their new locale.
I anticipate that some will dispute this interpretation and argue that the preponderance of
imported vessels indicates that Middleton was not permanently occupied at any point in the
Meillacan phase. Yet I believe it was, for the following reasons. First is the size of the site. All
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of the evidence, especially the fossil midden, indicates that Middleton harbored a substantial
population in the Meillacan phase. Second, the plaza was built in the Meillacan phase. As I
discussed above, plazas were associated with chiefs and elites and were designed to project
power, among other things. This would have been important in the Meillacan phase, as the
people of Middleton and its affiliates would have needed to legitimize themselves to the
culturally distinct settlement at MC-12 as well as those from the other sites that were popping up
during the “population explosion” of the late 13th century. A plaza would cement the status of
the Middleton chief as a person of importance, and his people as a force to be reckoned with.
There would be no need to project this image if Middleton were only sporadically occupied.
Third, it seems that Spud was expanded around AD 1290 and that more people began living
there around that time. This suggests that the population of Middleton had grown to the point
where permanent settlement pairing became necessary. Again, if Middleton was a temporary
camp, there would be no need to relocate any of its residents to nearby cays or expand the
catchment zone. Finally, there is the nature of the relationship between Middleton and
Hispaniola. The first Meillacan voyages to the Caicos were economically motivated. As time
progressed it is reasonable to assume that the Hispaniolan demand for Caicos foodstuffs, and in
short order, beads, would naturally grow. Growth in demand could only be met through
additional supply. At some point it would not be possible to satisfy this demand by dispatching
Hispaniolan fishermen to the Turks & Caicos. It would be far more productive to open an
overseas “office” of sorts where a permanent “staff” harvested the resources and prepared them
for export on a regular, recurring basis. This, of course, would require a manager—in this case, a
chief—to oversee local aspects of the trade. It would also necessitate that a more
demographically diverse population be located abroad to satisfy the social and practical needs of
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the workforce. Now wives and children relocate. At this point, the Middleton “office” as it were
became a permanent fixture. Ile à Rat is such a place—people under a local chief ran a dedicated
fishing enterprise, and lived permanently on this 1 acre island for hundreds of years (Keegan
2007:59-60). In the Meillacan phase, Middleton probably operated in a similar fashion, with
Spud serving as a periodic base camp for fishing the reefs, channel, and open water and making
beads for export.
The Lucayan Phase: circa AD 1300 to circa AD 1520(?)
Around AD 1300, the people at Middleton and Spud started to phase out Meillacan pots
in favor of Palmetto ware and Chican vessels. Recall from above that this happened suddenly at
Middleton. The portion of the Meillacan phase deposits that we excavated are distinct from
those of the Lucayan phase. It seems as if the site was abandoned suddenly, then recolonized
after the Meillacan/Chican transition had been fully effected in Hispaniola. While it is not
possible to know exactly when the site was abandoned, it probably occurred no later than the
early 14th century. Chican ceramics and Meillacan ceramics coexisted for a time during that
period, and we see evidence that both were used at Spud around the middle of the 14th century.
However we observed no such admixture of the subseries at Middleton, suggesting that the site
was abandoned before Chican pots were widely available.
I discussed some scenarios of Middleton’s abandonment earlier in the chapter and will
not repeat them here. Yet the additional context provided by the excavations at Spud raise
another possibility that merits consideration. The excavations and radiocarbon evidence at Spud
indicates that the site was physically leveled and expanded around AD 1290. This date is close
to the presumed time frame for Middleton’s abandonment. Earlier in this section I discussed
how Spud may have been built up around AD 1290 to accommodate population growth from
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Middleton. Alternatively, Spud could have been built up to accommodate the population of
Middleton. It is clear from the morphology of Middleton that the cay is vulnerable to tidal
surges. Perhaps a large storm hit the region, decimated Middleton, and killed some number of
the local population. The survivors could have relocated to Spud, which is several meters higher
and far more resistant to flooding. Some years later Middleton would have been recolonized, but
not until after the Meillacan/Chican transition had been effected. Still, this is just a scenario.
The truth is, I do not have any concrete data that explain why the island was abandoned. All I
know for certain is that the Meillacan people left suddenly and the island was later recolonized
by Palmetto/Chican using peoples who were well established there by AD 1440.
Sometime prior to the middle of the 15th century, the plaza had been rehabilitated and
Middleton was once again a bustling community. There is not a comparable radiocarbon date for
Spud, but similarities between the material culture clearly indicate that it also was occupied at
this time. Of the many Lucayan sites known from this period, MC-6 and its affiliates on Middle
Caicos are the best understood archaeologically. Thus it is important to consider the relationship
between these sites and Middleton and Spud. There are other contemporaneous sites on
Providenciales, but comparatively little work has been done at these so I will not speculate.
I argue that Middleton and Spud were affiliates of MC-6. The combined populations
produced a variety of items for trade with Hispaniola, including salt, fish, conch, beads, and
tools. Production of this merchandise took place in the vicinity where the raw material for
particular finished items naturally occurred. MC-6 focused on salt production, given its access to
the natural pan at Armstrong Pond. Salt was exported as a final product to supplement the diets
of inland settlements in Hispaniola. Salt was also used to cure fish, which was another central
focus at this site. Some of this salt may have also been sent to other sites like MC-32 or Spud to
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preserve a portion of their catch for export. Conch was the chief product of the Middleton/Spud
settlements. Under the supervision of a secondary elite, Middleton was engaged in full-scale
conch production. Spud was less involved in conch production, but played an important support
role by providing additional marine protein for the combined population and export via its
proximity to the reef and open water environments. Spud’s secondary role also seems logical
given the theoretical disposition of the settlement pairing process, in which one site with the
higher status lineage or lineages dominates the pair. Middleton’s prepared conch was sent to
Hispaniola and likely to MC-6, Spud, and other local sites under the corporate umbrella. This
may explain why there are no conch piles anywhere near MC-6, which one would expect given
the nutritional needs of the population at a site of its size. Additional products were also
prepared for export. Beads were manufactured, although it seems more heavily at Spud than
elsewhere. This again is probably due to Spud’s location nearer the ecologies where a diverse
array of appropriate mollusks occurred. Middleton also apparently plied a trade in conch tools
and perhaps wooden implements, and while these likely did not account for a considerable
percentage of total exports, this craft production could have enhanced the economic situation of
non-elite households.
If all of this produce was exported to Hispaniola, then what did the Caicos settlements
receive in exchange? In general, there is not a great deal of “spectacular” exotic cultural material
at MC-6 and MC-32, or at Middleton or Spud for that matter. Certainly there are imported
Chican ceramics, although these did not represent a significant portion of any assemblage. There
are also exotic implements, but excluding the stone cemi from Spud, these mostly consist of
utilitarian items like celts and drill bits. Absent a great deal of exotic material wealth, it is
reasonable to assume that these settlements reaped some social benefit from its exports that is not
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immediately obvious in the archaeological record. This may have come in the form of elite
claims to the right of succession in the Hispaniolan cacicazgos. Keegan (2007) presents a
compelling argument that the paramount cacique Caonabo was born at MC-6 and spent his
childhood there before returning to the village of his mother’s brother in Hispaniola to await his
ascendancy. If so, then MC-6 and its Caicos affiliates must have been viewed with tremendous
respect among elite and commoner alike within Hispaniola. This respect was bought with a
consistent record of delivering not only needed provisions and wares, but also socially-imbued
items like beads which enabled and reinforced a chiefly aura upon those who possessed them.
If Middleton and Spud were subsidiaries of MC-6 in the Lucayan phase, then it is
possible that it played some role in the Middleton’s rehabilitation after its period of
abandonment. Conversely, it is conceivable that Middleton and Spud played some role in the
establishment of MC-6. Although the data do not provide a clear answer to this “chicken or the
egg” scenario, word of Armstrong Pond undoubtedly reached Hispaniola through its regular
pattern of exchange with the Turks & Caicos, in which Middleton was a major player. That said,
I do not believe that anyone from Middleton established MC-6. Rather, I argue that they would
have been in the best position to pass intelligence about the area to Hispaniola. When that
intelligence was acted upon, and by whom, presently remains a mystery.
One nagging question remains. What really happened to the Caicos Islands’ Meillacan
phase people? My sense is that they gradually transitioned into what is now called “Lucayan” as
new technologies, ceramic styles, and socio-political organization of the emerging Taino
chiefdoms gained hegemony in Hispaniola in the 13th and 14th centuries. Because the indigenous
peoples of the region maintained close ties to Hispaniola throughout prehistory, it is reasonable
to assume that changes on that island would inevitably trickle down to the Caicos Bank
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settlements. Thus the residents of Middleton and Spud would have undergone a gradual process
of “Tainofication” that not have been entirely voluntary nor entirely complete. Very likely, they
would have retained at least some aspects of their Meillacan-era heritage, which had itself
morphed from the pure Hispaniolan version as the Caicos settlements gained more economic
power and autonomy during the course of the Meillacan phase. One holdover from the
Meillacan era could be the decision to settle on small cays. Middleton and Spud were initially
part of that settlement strategy, and always remained the primary settlements in the South Caicos
region even as other sites were popping up on the larger islands to the north. Add in the central
Bahamian influence contributed by MC-12, and the Turks & Caicos becomes a true melting pot
in which disparate cultures and world views create a unique ethnicity that is different from that
of any of its antecedents. As such, it may not be entirely appropriate to call the later indigenous
peoples of the Turks & Caicos “Lucayan” at all. To do so ignores the unique evolutionary
trajectory of these people by lumping them in with other cultures of the central and northern
Bahama archipelago that have an entirely different history. Rather, the later prehistoric
settlements of the southeastern Bahamas should be viewed as a distinct cultural unit—neither
fully Taino nor fully Lucayan—but a commingled product rooted in and influenced by centuries
of migration and cultural exchange with widely different groups. This phenomenon has occurred
countless times throughout human history. While there are too many examples to list,
considering the differences between New Orleans and Brooklyn will give the reader an idea of
what I mean. As to how this played out in the inimitable laboratory of the Turks & Caicos, I do
not yet know. But I intend to make this topic a central research focus in the future.
In conclusion, Middleton and Spud are important sites that can tell us a great deal about
not only the particulars, but also the general evolution of indigenous settlements of the Caicos
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Islands. I have only scratched the surface with my limited work there, but I hope I have provided
my colleagues some useful food for thought. On a larger scale, I will incorporate much of what I
laid out in this chapter into the broad, regional discussion in Chapter 7.
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Table 5-1. The Middleton Ceramic Assemblage
Small (<2cm) 108 171 3 9 111 180
Medium (2-4 cm) 63 316 4 16 67 332
Large (>4cm) 14 197 2 52 16 249
Palmetto Ware 76 341 9 60 85 405
GRIDDLE
Plain 2 31 0 0 2 31
DECORATED
Small (<2cm) 5 9 0 0 5 9
Medium (2-4 cm) 6 31 3 14 9 45
Large (>4cm) 3 67 2 39 5 106
300 1357
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Table 5-2 Middleton Invertebrate Remains
Large Mollusks MNI
Strombus gigas 8 33 32 20 54.0 93
Strombus gigas tools Pick Gouge Adze Scraper Hammer

Finished tools 102 0 2 0 0 104
Unfinished tools 14
< 4 cm 4-7 cm > 7 cm UID Pieces (g)

Charonia variegata 2
Other Mollusks Mass (g) MNI

Codakia orbicularis 39 10
Codakia orbiculata 1 1
Tellina georgiana 56 19
Nerita sp. 68 35
Oliva sp. 13
Olivella sp. 4
Pinctada radiata 3 2
Acmaeidae (limpits) 2 1
UID land snails 91 4
Chitons Mass (g) MNI

Acanthopleura
granulata 40 20
Corals Tools Mass (g)

Acropora cervicornus 9 207
Acropora palmatta 76
Solenastria sp. 100
Montastrea annularis 39
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Table 5-3. The Spud Ceramic Assemblage
Small (<2cm) 34 76 3 6 37 82
Medium (2-4 cm) 32 295 1 6 33 301
Large (>4cm) 11 210 4 47 15 257
Palmetto Ware 193 686 10 79 203 831
GRIDDLE
Plain 1 16 0 0 1 16
DECORATED
Small (<2cm) 2 3 0 0 2 3
Medium (2-4 cm) 0 0 1 4 1 4
Large (>4cm) 2 24 2 58 4 82
300 1717
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Table 5-4 Spud Invertebrate Remains
Large Mollusks MNI
Strombus gigas 22 34 6 14 111 76
Strombus gigas tools Pick Gouge Adze Hoe Knipper

Finished tools 21 0 3 1 5 30
< 4 cm 4-7 cm > 7 cm UID

Cittarium pica 6 17 5 20 51
Other Mollusks Mass (g) MNI

Oliva sp. 19 4
Olivella sp. 3 7
Chama sarda 7 6
Purpura patula 6 1
Bursa corrugata 22 1
Cypraea zebra 17 2
Astraea americana 7 1

Acanthopleura
granulata 4 1

Diploria sp. 487
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Figure 5-1. Location of Middleton Cay, Spud, and Cockburn Town Harbour. Image created in
Google Earth.
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Figure 5-2. Middleton Cay with west oriented at the top of the frame and north to the right. The
red line highlights the relic beach and demarcates the approximate western shore of the island in
prehistory. The enormous conch piles are clearly evident, even from space. Image created in
Google Earth.
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Figure 5-3. Some of the monumental conch piles of Middleton Cay.
Figure 5-4. Conch piles in the shallows southwest of Middleton Cay.
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Figure 5-5. Southeast-facing view of two historic period conch-burning fire pits. The limestone
cliff at upper left is part of the ridge that forms the island’s relic western shoreline.
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Figure 5-6. Extent of the Middleton site. Image created in Google Earth.
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Figure 5-7. West-facing view of the eastern half of the fossil midden at Middleton.
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Figure 5-8. West-facing view of the western end of the fossil midden at Middleton.
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Figure 5-9. Imported ceramic sherd embedded with burned limestone and broken conch.
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Figure 5-10. Palmetto ware sherd embedded near the bottom of the fossil midden.
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Figure 5-11. Imported griddle sherd and burned limestone.
Figure 5-12. Imported rim sherd (center, to the right of the live nerite) and burned limestone.
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Figure 5-13. Palmetto ware rim sherd embedded next to the live chiton.
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Figure 5-14. Map of the excavation units in Habitation 2 in Middleton.
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Figure 5-15. Map of the transect and shovel tests at Middleton.
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Figure 5-16. Location of the Middleton plaza in Habitation 2.
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Figure 5-17. Map of the plaza test units at Middleton.
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Figure 5-18. West-facing view of the Middleton plaza. Note the limestone boulders in the left
foreground. The student in the upper-right background is standing near the G structure.
Figure 5-19. Winn Phillips (left) and Matt Kear in the center of the G structure house floor.
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Figure 5-20. Matt Kear (left) and Winn Phillips in the center of the H structure house floor.
Figure 5-21. The rocks cleared from the Unit G house floor and piled directly nearby.
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Figure 5-22. Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at Middleton.
Figure 5-23. Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at Middleton.
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Figure 5-24. Vertical distribution of ceramic weight in grams by unit at Middleton.
Figure 5-25. Vertical distribution of ceramics by sherd count in Habitation 1.
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Figure 5-26. Vertical distribution of ceramics by weight in grams in Habitation 1.
Figure 5-27. Vertical distribution of ceramics by sherd count in Habitation 2.
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Figure 5-28. Vertical distribution of ceramics by weight in grams in Habitation 2.
Figure 5-29. Navicular bowl rim sherd with classic Meillacan designs and sherds with unusual
white paste from shovel test 5S/0E.
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Figure 5-30. Meillacan rim sherd from shovel test 0N/15E.
Figure 5-31. Applique Chican lug and curvilinear-incised Chican sherd from Unit H.
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Figure 5-32. Decorated sherds from Test Unit 14.
Figure 5-33. Horizontal distribution of ceramics, by weight in grams, at the Middleton site.
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Figure 5-34. Horizontal distribution of ceramics by sherd count in Habitation 1.
Figure 5-35. Horizontal distribution of sherds by weight in grams in Habitation 1.
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Figure 5-36. Horizontal distribution of ceramics by sherd count in E strucutre area.
Figure 5-37. Horizontal distribution of sherds by weight in grams in the E structure area.
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Figure 5-38. Horizontal distribution of ceramics by sherd count in G and H structure area.
Figure 5-39. Horizontal distribution of sherds by weight in grams in the G and H structure area.
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Figure 5-40. Several conch shells in various stages of tool manufacture.
Figure 5-41. Conch shells left behind after the central worhl had been removed.
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Figure 5-42. Recreating the pick extraction method observed at Middleton Cay.
Figure 5-43. The beadmaking remains of Middleton.
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Figure 5-44. Greenstone flakes from Unit H. Note the rounded surfaces of some flakes.
Figure 5-45. Shaped greenstone item of undetermined purpose.
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Figure 5-46. Northwest-facing view of the stone “compass”. The slab in the lower left appears
to have fallen forward, while the others remain upright.
Figure 5-47. Precise west-facing view of the stone “compass”.
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Figure 5-48. Satellite image of Spud. Image created in Google Earth.
Figure 5-49. View of Spud from the southwestern beach, with Meghan Beverung in the frame
for scale. Note the limestone ledge at left. Unit B was situated just to the right of that ledge.
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Figure 5-50. Site plan of Spud with excavation units.
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Figure 5-51. Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware ceramic sherds at Spud.
Figure 5-52. Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware ceramics at Spud.
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Figure 5-53. Vertical distribution of ceramic weight in grams by unit at Spud.
Figure 5-54. Meillacan sherd (left) and enigmatic “eye” lug (right) from Spud, Unit B.
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Figure 5-55. White-sipped Chican body fragment from Unit F, Level 5.
Figure 5-56. Meillacan rim sherd from Unit E, Level 5.
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Figure 5-57. Horizontal distribution of ceramics, by weight in grams, at Spud.
Figure 5-58. The entire bead assemblage obtained from Spud.
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Figure 5-59. Imported chert drill bit (left) and core (right) from Spud.
Figure 5-60. Exotic greenstone cemi from Spud.
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Figure 5-61. Detail drawing of the cemi. Art by Lucas H. Martindale Johnson.
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CHAPTER 6
RITUAL CENTERS: THE PELICAN CAY AND DOVE CAY EXCAVATIONS
This chapter describes the excavations of the Pelican Cay and Dove Cay sites on the
Caicos Bank. I begin this chapter with an overview of these sites and how they fit into the
regional settlement pattern. As before, this is to provide the reader with some context in which
to understand the sites. Next I discuss in detail our work at each site. For both sites, there is a
“Data” and “Results” section. The data section includes a physical description of the cay and the
site. This includes the basic details of the excavation: when it was conducted, how many units
were excavated, how the site is laid out, and so forth. The results section begins with a full
accounting of each site’s material assemblage and concludes with specific interpretations based
on my analysis of the excavated materials and the local context in which they were recovered. I
conclude the chapter by discussing how the sites integrate into the overall archaeology of the
Caicos Islands. These interpretations are amalgamated into a broader discussion of indigenous
activity in the Turks & Caicos Islands in Chapter 7.
Pelican Cay
Data
Physical description of Pelican Cay
Pelican Cay is situated on the northern extremity of the Caicos Bank off the northern
coast of Middle Caicos. It lies in shallow water 650 meters north of Bambarra Landing, which is
the name of the beach that local fishermen use to land their catch and park their skiffs. From
Pelican Cay, it is a further 1100 meters to the fringing reef that marks the northern limit of the
Caicos Bank. Here the water immediately plunges from tens of meters in depth to thousands.
Large swells from the open North Atlantic plow into the reef, creating a constant, undulating roar
and a line of white that stretches from one side of the horizon to the other. Because the reef
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absorbs the ocean’s fury, the interior waters are usually quite calm. It takes a robust squall to
create more than a few whitecaps on this sheltered and peaceful part of the Caicos Bank.
Although the island lay 2/3 of a kilometer from the beach, it is possible to walk to Pelican
Cay. It is attached to Middle Caicos by a tombola—a submerged sand bar—so that the water is
between ankle and waist deep, even at high tide. As such, Pelican Cay is accessible to the
current residents of Middle Caicos, and they take advantage of it. During our excavations, a
father and his young daughter were sailing a model sailboat on the tombola. (Model sailboats
enjoy a deep history on Middle Caicos, and the tombola’s calm, shallow waters remain the
primary venue. The Middle Caicos Sailing Association meets monthly at Bambarra Landing,
and the Valentine’s Day Cup regatta for captains aged 4-12 grows bigger each year (Middle
Caicos Sailing Association 2009)). As they followed her boat, they eventually waded over to the
island and asked what we were up to. I gave them a brief tour and learned that the man had been
visiting the island since he was a boy. He and his friends used the island for fishing, fun, and
overnight campouts. It was also a preferred place to hide from their parents after getting into
trouble at school! Historic remains we excavated from the site corroborate his story, and suggest
that Pelican Cay has remained a popular day trip destination since the Plantation era. We
identified a clay pipe stem from the 18th century, and observed Coke cans, plastic forks, and
other modern picnic trash. All of this material indicates that Pelican Cay has long been viewed
as a place for recreation and repose. It is a gorgeous setting in which one can enjoy a cool dip, a
fresh breeze, a delicious snack, or a quiet afternoon with friends and family. It sits like an
accessible gem on the azure waters, and almost lures one to it from the beach (Figure 6-1). I
apologize if I seem overly poetic in my description, but I love this little island. Pelican Cay is
one of my favorite places in the Turks & Caicos.
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Pelican Cay is rectangular in shape. It measures 95 meters by 45 meters, for a total area
of only 0.39 hectares. Its long axis is oriented along an east/west bearing, so that its maximum
profile faces the beach at Bambarra Landing. The cay is limestone, and fossilized coral heads
and mollusk shells within the stone indicate that it is the exposed remains of an ancient coral
reef. Pelican Cay is highest on its northern side, which sits 4 to 5 meters above the high water
line. The northern shore of the island is sheer, jagged rock that has a certain beauty, but looks
fierce enough to mangle anyone unfortunate enough to slip and fall down it (Figure 6-2). The
northern ¾ of the island consists of a flatish plateau of sorts that slopes gently as one moves
south. The southern edge of the plateau drops off abruptly to an area of exposed limestone and
rocks, so that the southernmost 8 to 12 meters of the island are essentially a featureless ironstone
“beach.” This ironstone sits about a meter above the sea at high tide and terminates abruptly at
the water, so that one must hop up a meter of sheer rock to access the island from the tombola.
A small, triangular-shaped sand beach abuts the center portion of the southern shore. It is mostly
submerged at high tide, but expands to the size of a couple of tennis courts when the water is out.
Pelican Cay has very shallow soils intermittently distributed amongst many limestone
boulders and exposed bedrock. All of the soils are confined to the plateau on the northern ¾ of
the island. The vegetation of the island is dominated by sea grape and a thigh-high scratchy
plant that was somewhat of a nuisance, especially on the western third of the island (Figure 6-3).
Elsewhere, some salt-resistant succulents and various other kinds of stunted vegetation survive in
the more exposed areas. There is little terrestrial fauna on the island, but we did observe a
surprising abundance of small lizards (Anolis sp). These were particularly numerous among the
sea grape at the western end of Pelican Cay, which must afford them cover from predatory birds.
We also identified a defunct bird nest lodged in a thicket of sea grape. It was quite large,
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perhaps 75 cm in diameter. Of course, sea birds frequent the cay to roost and feed on their catch.
We noticed a number of fish carcasses that had been pecked clean of flesh. Fortunately we did
not encounter any of the nesting avifauna that assaulted us elsewhere in the Turks & Caicos.
Perhaps they find all of the human activity around the island disagreeable.
Description of the Pelican Cay site
I discovered the Pelican Cay site in February 1999. I was in my first full semester of
graduate school and my advisor, William Keegan, had brought me to Middle Caicos to assist
with an Earthwatch program. After completing a day’s work at MC-32, we were walking along
the beach and back to Bambarra when I asked Bill if anyone had ever looked for a site on that
little island offshore. He said something like “No, go ahead and check it out”, so I, the wide-
eyed businessman-turned-archaeologist, plunged onto the tombola and into the rising tide.
Ironically, I missed the main part of the deposit during my visit, but nevertheless returned to
Bambarra with a handful of small imported potsherds. The next afternoon Bill and I returned to
Pelican Cay with Betsy Carlson and several Earthwatch volunteers. We pored over the cay and
discovered the main deposit. Later that week, I returned again with two Earthwatch volunteers
to execute a 1x1 meter test Unit. We recovered a wealth of Palmetto and imported ceramics,
several beads, and an engraved conch-shell tooth inlay that would have been affixed to a wooden
statue or cemi. It was a seminal moment in my career, and launched me on a trajectory to
understand why small cays were important to indigenous peoples of the islands. Unequivocally,
that experience is why I undertook this dissertation.
The Pelican Cay site is located on the southern half of the plateau near the middle of the
island, directly adjacent to the ironstone that rims the southern shoreline. Based on our
observations and measurements, it is 40 meters long by 15 meters wide. The cultural deposit is
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densest in the center of the site. To the east of center, there is a robust surface scatter that
gradually diminishes until the surface becomes sterile about 15 meters from the eastern end of
the island. To the west of center, there is a sparser surface scatter that terminates at a dense stand
of sea grape about 30 meters from the western end of the island. At the time, I wondered if the
site might continue into the sea grape stand, so I hacked my way in and poked around best I
could. I did not detect any cultural material on the surface, but it could be obscured by
accumulated humus and leaf litter. In any case, I decided to focus our limited time on the rich
deposits in more accessible areas of the site that promised to be more productive and less labor
intensive to investigate.
The Pelican Cay site is notable for the amount of material present on or near the surface.
This is undoubtedly due to the extremely shallow soils of the cay. None of our subsurface units
was more than 29 cm deep in any place, and the average depth of deposit for all units was only
15.54 cm. Given the physical nature of the cay, it is unlikely that it ever had much soil to begin
with. Moreover, the soils that did accumulate through the gradual decay of plant matter must be
highly susceptible to erosion. These facts lead me to a hypothesis about why the cultural deposit
is so concentrated. Recall that the island slopes gradually southward. Because the cay’s surface
lies at an angle directed toward the sea, the intense tropical downpours that soak the region
during the wet season could have gradually washed away the finer soil granules not anchored by
plant roots. However, this action would not be sufficient to carry away larger, heavier inclusions
like rocks, mollusk shells, ceramic sherds, and other durable aspects of material culture. As
such, the deposit would have slowly become concentrated into a single, dense layer on the
bedrock, as centuries of rainwater acted as a sort of natural sieve.
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The island and the site must also be vulnerable to cyclonic action. Sullivan appreciated
this, and opined that “This cay is completely inundated during hurricanes, so it is doubtful that
artifacts would remain even if it had been a prehistoric activity area” (1981:311). Yet he was
only partially correct. I agree that some of the site has been destroyed, but as the reader will
learn in the coming pages, much of the deposit remains. I believe that Middle Caicos’ fringing
reef, combined with the cay’s elevation and orientation with its apex facing north toward the
ocean, provides Pelican Cay with a degree of protection from storm activity. Several personal
observations support this hypothesis. First, the waters around Pelican Cay remain quite calm
even when large swells are abundant outside the reef. During a visit to Middle Caicos in March
2001, a frontal boundary passed and produced gale-force winds from the north. At the time, I
was staying at the Blue Horizon near Conch Bar on the west end of Middle Caicos. Here, there
is no fringing reef to protect this part of the coastline. I watched in awe as 20-30 foot swells
right off the North Atlantic pounded explosively into Dragon Cay just offshore. This abuse has
rendered Dragon Cay a barren, scoured rock, even though it is many meters higher than Pelican
Cay. From this experience I surmised that the reef must provide a great deal of protection to the
waters within its lee, which includes those around Pelican Cay. Moreover, the force of waves
that do penetrate the reef’s protective curtain would be somewhat diminished by Pelican cay’s
elevated, northern shore. This must be why Pelican Cay has retained soil and vegetation, while
Dragon Cay has not. The second point concerns the effects of hurricanes on Middle Caicos.
When I lived in Bambarra in 2000 while conducting Master’s Thesis research, I learned of a
storm in the 1970s that drove a surge more than a kilometer inland, up to the cemetery at the base
of the high ridge upon which the town is located. Although I never measured the change in
elevation from the cemetery to the water line at the beach, my impression is that the cemetery
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cannot lie more than 2 meters above mean sea level. Interestingly, the plateau upon which the
Pelican Cay site sits today seems somewhat higher than that. There is an abrupt 1 to 1.3 meter
drop from the plateau and the site to the ironstone “beach” that comprises the southernmost 8-12
meters of the island. This ironstone sits about 1 additional meter above the high tide line. Thus,
the plateau must be at least 2 meters above the high water mark. Therefore, I believe that the
southern terminus of the plateau—where it drops to meet the ironstone—represents the extent to
which storm surges have advanced on the island. Whatever deposits were present below this
point have indeed been scoured away, leaving only the exposed rock. Yet the deposits that were
higher up the island were protected from this action, and have (obviously) survived to this day.
If I am correct then the Pelican Cay site was probably wider than it appears today, perhaps by as
much as 8 to 12 meters.
It seems that the collusion of several factors permitted much of the deposit at Pelican Cay
to survive the elements. Still, I believe that inferring much from the provenience of the surviving
material culture is problematic. First, the effects of post-depositional erosion are evident. I am
not certain that the current location of material corresponds to where it was left by indigenous
peoples and was not washed around by wave or rain action. Moreover, there are other
taphonomical factors to consider. Chief among these is the island’s role as a local hangout since
the 1780s. At a minimum, the surface scatter of material culture been subjected to centuries of
pedestrian traffic, and it must have been disturbed by this activity. Curio collecting is also highly
probable. A pretty adorno or finished bead might be pocketed by an intrigued grown-up.
Moreover, as anyone with children knows, little ones tend to pick up anything (rocks, leaves,
sticks, shells, etc.) that they find interesting, unusual, or can incorporate into some impromptu
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game. In sum, I am less confident that the items we recovered accurately reflect their prehistoric
spatial distribution than at other sites we excavated.
I also have concerns about the nature and provenience of the invertebrate faunal record.
We encountered a number of fire pits on Pelican Cay. Some of these looked like recent
campfires that employed conch shells as a fire ring, while others contained a volume of cracked
and charred conch shells. Because I noted in my field journal that “few conch, and very few
large conch” were present anywhere on the surface or within the subsurface deposit, it would
seem that many conch shells were consumed in lime fires or camp fires on Pelican Cay in the
historic era. This activity would obviously skew the invertebrate faunal record. Tangentially, it
would also render any charcoal collected from the site too risky to submit for radiocarbon
analysis. We recovered a wealth of invertebrate faunal material at the site, and I will discuss it as
I have for the other sites we excavated. Yet I do so with the following caveat: I cannot be certain
that the quantity and distribution of these materials accurately reflects patterns of indigenous
usage.
I have even less confidence in the integrity of the vertebrate faunal record. We observed
several fish carcasses on the cay. Some were probably left by birds, but one had clearly been
recently filleted by a person with a knife. We also noticed a length of monofilament line with
tied fishhook on the ironstone. Based on this evidence and the ethnographic account provided by
our young sailor’s father, it is clear that any fish bones found within Pelican Cay’s shallow soils
could have made their way into the deposit under any number of circumstances. We collected
substantial quantities of vertebrate faunal material, but it has not been analyzed. Even if it had, I
cannot assume that it accurately reflects indigenous activity at Pelican Cay. Consequently, I will
not discuss the vertebrate faunal record in this analysis.
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In conclusion, interpreting the material from Pelican Cay requires a different approach.
Data obtained from the site’s fish bones and mollusk shells could produce dubious conclusions,
but the rest of the material culture is truly compelling and reveals a great deal about how the cay
was used in prehistory. It matters not how many people have used Pelican Cay since the 18th
century, for they did not use Palmetto ware, or Chican or Meillac ceramics, or shell beads, or
shell tools, or engraved conch-shell tooth inlays. These were left by the indigenous peoples.
Consequently, I focus the analysis of the Pelican Cay material assemblage on these aspects of
material culture. In some respects, what follows is similar to an analysis of an old collection one
would find in the bowels of a museum or in a trunk in some 19th century collector’s attic. The
provenience may be imperfect, but the material itself speaks volumes about the nature of the
occupation.
Excavation details
Pelican Cay was the first site the field school excavated, from May 13-16, 2004. On the
first day, our boat trip to the site was delayed until noon by squally weather, and we only had
time to clear the area, set up a datum, and lay out our first units. We returned early on the 14th
and dove into the units we had plotted the day before. The 15th was also devoted entirely to
excavations, and we completed these by lunchtime on the 16th. We logged a combined 38.5
person-days working Pelican Cay before departing for South Caicos on the 17th.
We completed six Units, designated “A” through “F” (Figure 6-4). Units A, B, and D
were 2 x 2 meters square and Unit C was a 1 x 2 meter rectangle. Units E and F were each 1 x 1
in dimension, but were plotted next to each other so that a 1 x 2 meter Unit was formed. Surface
features guided the placement of Units. Unit A was situated in a 4 to 5 meter wide, circle-shaped
area near the western end of the site that looked like a potential house floor. Unit B was
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positioned at the base of the plateau, near its terminus at the ironstone, in an area with dense
surface scatter that was eroding out of the slope. Units C and D were created to explore what
looked like small kitchen middens on the northern edge of the site, but turned out to be probable
historic-era conch kilns. Finally, Unit E was placed in another 4 to 5 meter diameter round area
that had obviously been cleared of rocks and debris. It was quite productive, so Unit F was
placed to its immediate east to further explore that portion of the deposit. Together these form a
1 x 2 meter Unit, and they will be discussed as a single entity below.
The plateau upon which the site lies slopes toward the sea from north to south, so all of
the Units were positioned on uneven ground. In some cases, the slope was extreme. For
example, the starting surface measurements for Unit A were 27 cmbd in the northeast corner and
57.5 cmbd in the southwest corner, for a range of 30.5 cm. Indeed, no unit had less than 20 cm
of slope. Moreover, the site’s shallow soils meant that some Units had enormous rocks and
undulating bedrock protrusions that not only made it difficult to excavate, but also challenged the
neophyte student-archaeologists to proceed in level proveniences. To make matters worse, the
matrix included more rocks than I have ever seen in a deposit. When it came time to backfill, the
rock piles were nearly as large as the screened soil piles. Again, this is likely due to the gradual
erosion of finer soil granules by rainfall over time.
All of the Units were excavated by trowel and brush to bedrock. The shallow soils were
filled with matrix to limestone, so we did not encounter any Units that terminated at sterile sand.
All matrix was screened through ¼ inch hardware mesh. In addition, six 1-liter column samples
were obtained from Units A and B. These were pre-screened through the ¼ inch mesh over a
clean tarp to remove ceramics, rocks, and other large inclusions, then bagged for future analysis.
Our work at Pelican Cay produced 21 field specimen (FS) proveniences. Sixteen of these were
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obtained from Units A-F. The remaining 5 FS proveniences were surface collections. Given the
shallow soils and the abundance of fascinating material on the surface, we combed over the site
and collected as much as we could. These collections did not proceed in formalized spatial units.
Given the level of historic activity at the site I did not believe that much could be learned from
the spatial distribution of items on the surface. Rather, this material was collected to enhance
sample size and provide more robust evidence for which prehistoric groups were using the site
over time.
Results
Methodology. The unique physical nature of Pelican Cay and the assemblage itself
requires me to approach the ceramic analysis differently than for other sites discussed in this
dissertation.
First, the size of the Pelican Cay ceramic assemblage makes it possible to gain useful
insights by viewing the distribution of material by sherd count as well as weight. This provides
an additional level of analysis that may prove useful in comparing Pelican Cay to other ritual
center sites excavated in the future.
Second, the soils are so shallow that a horizontal analysis of the distribution of ceramics
by depth would not be very instructive. We discovered Meillacan, Chican, and Palmetto ware
ceramics on the surface, and at all points throughout the shallow deposits. There is really no
natural or cultural stratigraphy—everything seems mixed together in a fairly compact layer on
the bedrock. Therefore, I will not present a horizontal analysis in this section.
Third, all of the recreational activity at the site has likely biased the distribution of
ceramics obtained through the surface collections. There is no assurance that these things have
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not been moved around over the years. Therefore I omit the surface collection ceramics from the
vertical analysis and focus only on those obtained from the Units. I will discuss the surface
collections in a separate section after the vertical analysis.
Fourth, the wealth of decorated and otherwise notable ceramics requires special
emphasis. For Pelican Cay, I will include a distinct “Decorated and Notable Sherds” section
devoted to these ceramics. I break out the special ceramics by subseries, so that notable Chican,
Meillacan, and Palmetto ware ceramics are each discussed in turn. I also include a segment for
‘other notable sherds,’ where I discuss sherds with punctations, non-descript lines, and other
motifs that are present in more than one subseries, as well as sherds with other unusual
characteristics. This section will span the entire assemblage (i.e. all of the Units and the surface
collections).
In sum, Pelican Cay is unique, and it requires a refined approach. What follows is a
more detailed account of each proveniences’ ceramic materials, which seems appropriate given
the nature of the assemblage.
Overview. It would be difficult to overstate the density of Pelican Cay’s ceramic
deposits, for the volume of pottery we recovered from a few shallow units on this tiny island is
truly remarkable. The Pelican Cay ceramic assemblage consists of 582 sherds weighing 4,715
grams (Table 6-1). By weight, the ceramic assemblage from Pelican alone is nearly 1.4 kg larger
than the combined assemblages from Middleton, Spud, Gibbs Cay, Cotton Cay, and Dove Cay!
In fact, nearly 60% of all the ceramics we recovered during the entire field school were collected
during our first three days of work. Moreover, all of this material was recovered from less than 2
cubic meters of screened matrix. This is the least amount of matrix we processed at any of the
sites we excavated. Sometimes it seemed like some buckets contained as many sherds as rocks.
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The assemblage is split almost evenly between imported ceramics and Palmetto ware.
Imported ceramics accounted for 51.7% of the assemblage by sherd count (Figure 6-5), and
47.4% of the assemblage by weight (Figure 6-6). These ratios do not change appreciably when
the 114 sherds weighing a combined 1,437 grams obtained from the surface collections are
excluded. When the remaining 468 sherds weighing a combined 3,278 grams that we obtained
from the Units are broken down, imported pottery accounts for 52.4% of sherd count (Figure 6-
7) but again, only 47.8% by weight (Figure 6-8). The slight disconnect between the sherd count
and weight figures across the assemblage probably reflects the fact that we identified a number
of very large and heavy griddle sherds.
Vertical distribution. The vertical distribution analysis includes all of the 468 sherds
recovered from the six excavation Units. Every Unit A-F produced ceramics, and I discuss the
results from each in turn below. For each Unit, I begin by describing its location and association
with any features. Next I describe the frequency of imported and Palmetto ware sherds found
within the Unit and their proportions to the overall assemblage. These are broken out by both
sherd count (Table 6-2) and weight (Table 6-3). Finally, I discuss the frequency of decorated or
notable sherds. For clarity’s sake I will not provide a detailed review of the specific motifs in
this section: that will appear as a cohesive whole in the “Decorated and Notable Sherds” section
later on. Ideally, this will help the reader digest the bountiful information by consolidating it all
in one place.
Unit A was a 2 x 2 meter Unit. It was situated on the southern half of what appeared to
be a circular-shaped aggregation of rocks and ceramic scatter that lay a few meters from the
dense stand of sea grape abutting the western edge of the site. The potential midden measured
4.31 m on its east-west axis by 4.01 m on its north-south axis. It was no more than a few
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centimeters higher than the surrounding terrain, but clearly had a higher volume of golf-ball
sized, fire-cracked and unmodified rocks than the surrounding area. Even so, the deposit was
very shallow and exposed bedrock was at the surface in the southwestern corner of the Unit.
Overall, the deposit averaged 12.7 cm in depth before terminating at solid bedrock (Figure 6-11).
Even though Unit A yielded less than half a cubic meter of matrix, it produced 52 sherds (11.1 %
of the assemblage) weighing a combined 357 grams (10.9 % of the assemblage). Of these, 39
sherds weighing 258 grams were from imported vessels. The remaining 13 sherds weighing 99
grams were Palmetto ware. Five of the imported sherds were undecorated rims. Two of these
rims displayed a flat top, and there was one each of bevel top, filet top, and flat bevel top.
Additionally, there were four decorated or notable sherds. These will be described later in the
special section.
Unit B was 2 x 2 meters in dimension. It was located 10 meters southeast of Unit A, near
the center of the site’s southern boundary. Here the plateau upon which the site lies begins a
variably steep descent before it terminates at the ironstone “beach”. Consequently, Unit B rested
on a grade—the surface measurement below local datum of the northeastern corner of the Unit
were 24.5 cm higher than that of the southwestern corner. I chose this place to evaluate the
dense surface scatter that had partially eroded out of this slope.
With an average depth of 23.7 cm, the deposit in Unit B was more extensive than in any
other excavated Unit at Pelican Cay. Perhaps as a result, Unit B was also many times more
productive than any other provenience. Still, the deposits in Unit B are quite shallow when
compared to other sites in the region. Moreover, there were large outcroppings of bedrock in the
center of the Unit that took up a good deal of the northern half of the Unit (Figure 6-12). The
maximum volume of the deposit was approximately 0.948 cubic meters (200 cm X 200 cm x
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23.7 cm). Rough measurements of the bedrock outcroppings reduce this figure to about 0.7
cubic meters, which is hardly much volume for a 2 x 2 meter unit. Such is the nature of the
deposit at this site.
We obtained a treasure trove of ceramics from this relatively small quantity of dirt. Unit
B produced a total of 260 sherds (55.6 % of the assemblage) weighing a combined 1,944 grams
(59.3 % of the assemblage). Imported ceramics accounted for 122 sherds weighing 768 grams,
while Palmetto ware tallied 138 sherds weighing 1,176 grams. The assemblage included two
undecorated, round top imported rims. Five undecorated Palmetto ware rims were also
identified, including three with a bevel top and two with a flat top. There are also 22 decorated
or notable sherds in the Unit B assemblage, which will be described later.
Unit C was our shallowest and least remarkable Unit at Pelican Cay. It was a 1 x 2 meter
Unit located 9.4 meters north-northeast of Unit B. It was placed on a dense surface accumulation
of conch and fire-cracked rock to evaluate the possibility that these were part of a deeper midden
feature (Figure 6-13). We soon discovered that it was not, and that the deposit was extremely
shallow, averaging only 6.2 cm in depth. Indeed, most of this material seemed to be piled up on
the bedrock itself. Unit C produced 27 sherds (5.8 %) weighing a combined 189 grams (5.8 %).
Of these, 16 were from imported vessels and 11 from Palmetto ware. Most of these were plain
body sherds: only one undecorated imported rim sherd with a round top was identified. Two
decorated/notable sherds were also recovered.
Unit D was a 2 x 2 meter provenience located 6.3 meters southeast of Unit C and 6.8
meters northeast of Unit B. It was placed directly in the center of a circular cleared area that
measured 4.45 meters on its north-south axis and 4.26 meters on its east-west axis. This area
was level and devoid of surface rocks (Figure 6-14). It looked as if it might have been the floor
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of a structure, and Unit D was designed to test that hypothesis. The deposit in Unit D was nearly
as shallow as that of Unit C, averaging only 8.6 cm deep. It produced 33 sherds (7.0 %)
weighing a combined 114 grams (3.5 %). Sixteen of these sherds weighing 55 grams were from
imported vessels, and the remaining 17 sherds weighing 59 grams from Palmetto ware. One
undecorated imported rim with a narrow beveled lip was identified, as was a single notable
sherd.
As mentioned above, Units E and F are contiguous 1 x 1 meter units and are best viewed
as a single entity. Unit E was positioned 5.4 meters southeast of Unit D and 10.4 meters east-
northeast of Unit B in an area with few large surface rocks and a dense surface scatter. Unit F
was located to immediately east of Unit E. In spite of a large boulder that obscured a healthy
portion of Unit E (Figure 6-15), the combined 1 x 2 meter Unit turned out to be the second most
productive provenience at the site. It yielded 96 sherds (20.5 %) weighing a combined 674
grams (20.5 %). Imported ceramics accounted for 52 sherds weighing 370 grams, while
Palmetto ware contributed the remaining 44 sherds weighing 304 grams. Two undecorated
imported rims with round tops and one plain bevel top Palmetto ware rim were present.
Interestingly, a high proportion of the sherds were decorated (14 of the 96), including some of
the more finely executed pieces we identified at the site.
Surface collections. Five of the FS proveniences were from surface collections. Each
corresponds to a general area of the site (e.g. “Surface area north of Unit D”). Still, there has
been so much activity on Pelican Cay over the years that I cannot be sure that anything we found
on the surface remained where it was left by indigenous peoples. Because the value of this
material lies not in its provenience, but what it can tell us about who was using the site, I lump
the five together and treat the surface collections as a single entity.
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The surface collections accounted for 114 sherds weighing a combined 1,467 grams. Of
these, 56 sherds weighing 667 grams were from imported vessels, while 58 sherds weighing 770
grams were Palmetto ware. Among the imported vessels, we identified 7 rim sherds. Two
exhibited a round top, two a flat top, one a flat bevel top, one a wedge top, and there was one
griddle rim. We also collected two Palmetto ware rim sherds, one with a round top and another
with a flat bevel top. The assemblage included 7 decorated or otherwise notable sherds as well.
Decorated and Notable Sherds. There are 50 sherds in the Pelican Cay assemblage that
fall into this category. Of these, 30 sherds are diagnostic to subseries. Twelve more exhibit
punctations, which are common in multiple ceramic traditions. The remaining 8 sherds are
notable for other reasons that will be explained below.
Chican imports account for 14 of the 50 sherds in this subset of the assemblage. Eight of
these sherds exhibit one or more classic Chican motifs: engraved lines, curvilinear lines, and line
and dot motif (Figure 6-16). Five sherds have the chalky white or orange paste common to
Chican bottles. One of these bottle sherds also bears a white slip. The final Chican sherd is from
an effigy pot fashioned into the form of a human face (Figure 6-17).
Meillacan imports account for 9 of the 50 notable sherds. Four of these sherds bear the
familiar Meillacan cross-hatch pattern, and a fifth exhibits the classic alternating oblique parallel
line design (Figure 6-18). The remaining 4 sherds were identified as Meillacan by the wet-clay
execution of various decorative motifs. Two of these sherds were punctated, another exhibited a
vertical parallel line design, and the final sherd was decorated with vertical parallel lines under
an appliqué strip.
Palmetto ware accounts for 7 of the 50 sherds. Five of these are mat marked body sherds
from cooking vessels. These are not griddle sherds—the unmarked interior surface is concave,
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and they are too thin. Whereas mat marking on griddle sherds is common and thought to be
related to the manufacturing process, such marks on cooking vessels are less widespread and
have been identified as an intentional form of decoration (Berman and Hutchinson 2000).
Another Palmetto sherd was decorated with an incised line under the interior lip of the vessel
rim. The final sherd was not decorated, but was notable for its grey paste. None of the other
Palmetto sherds we recovered at Pelican Cay was grey, which suggests that its paste may have
come from a different source than the rest of the Palmetto ware at the site—perhaps elsewhere in
the Bahamas.
The remaining 20 sherds cannot be identified to subseries because they either display
motifs common to multiple subseries or are remarkable for some other, undiagnostic reason.
Twelve of these 20 sherds are from punctated imported vessels. These cannot be identified to
subseries because punctation is common to both Chican and Meillacan vessels, and on these
sherds, punctation does not co-occur with another, more diagnostic motif. One fascinating
aspect of these sherds is the wide variety of ways in which the punctations were executed—there
were 9 distinct techniques employed to decorate these 12 sherds. The most common technique
employed a cylindrical stylus inserted at a 90 degree angle to the vessel to make a series of “tic-
tac” shaped impressions. Four of the 12 sherds exhibited this design. These impressions varied
in size from 2-5 mm long by 1-2 mm wide. One of these sherds was from the rim of a serving
plate (Figure 6-19). Three other body sherds exhibited single rows of “tic-tac” punctations of
various sizes, which appeared to be executed on the vessel shoulder. The remaining eight forms
of punctation execution are summarized in Table 6-5. Although there is not much we can learn
from these variable forms of execution at the moment, they do serve to illustrate the many ways
in which potters decorated their vessels with punctations. It would be useful to explore the
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geographical distribution of punctation execution techniques in Hispaniola to see if any local or
regional trends could be teased from the data.
The final 8 sherds in this subset of the Pelican Cay ceramic assemblage are notable for
reasons not covered thus far in this section. All of these sherds were from imported vessels.
Two sherds were from small pots with unusually thick walls. One of these was a flat top rim
sherd, with walls 11.5 mm thick despite having an orifice of only 6 cm. The other was a body
sherd that was highly concave, yet 11.3 mm thick. Two other sherds had a bright red paste that
may have been intentionally colored. Among the remaining sherds is a large imported griddle
sherd with an incised line, a plain, undecorated rim of a serving plate, a small rim with a single
incised line under the exterior lip, and a bottle sherd with the familiar white chalky paste, but
also an applied strip affixed to the surface of the vessel.
Analysis. The vertical distribution of the material provides some insight into site layout,
albeit with the caveat that provenience has likely been impacted by historic activity and post-
depositional taphonomy. The excavations paint a picture of a cleared, primary activity area or
small plaza in the center of the site, surrounded by a ring of discarded rocks, trash, and debris
(Figure 6-20). In the northeast corner of this primary activity area we identified one probable
structure floor around Unit D. This Unit was situated in a cleared, circular feature some 4.3
meters in diameter. Although it was a 2 x2 meter unit, Unit D produced very little ceramic
material, as if the floor had been maintained clean. There was a dense surface scatter to the east
and north of this feature, suggesting that debris was discarded there and the portion of the site
beyond the Unit D structure was not part of the primary activity area. Units A and C were
essentially situated on rock piles with a limited amount of ceramics. These lie away from the
primary activity area on the western and northern peripheries of the site. This suggests that the
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rocks removed from the primary activity area of Pelican Cay were discarded here, to the north
and west. Unit B on the southern boundary of the site is clearly situated on a midden/waste
disposal area. We recovered the majority of the ceramic assemblage from this provenience. The
1 x 2 meter unit comprised of Units E and F trailed only Unit B in terms of production. These
were located on the eastern periphery of the site, in the vicinity of the dense surface scatter
observed east of the Unit D structure.
The shallow soils and the lack of any natural or cultural stratigraphy makes it difficult to
determine how the site evolved over time. Still, the ceramic assemblage paints a clear picture of
who was using the site and when they were there. Obviously, the Pelican Cay occupants
maintained close ties to settlements in Hispaniola, for the ceramic assemblage is almost evenly
split between imported vessels and locally-made ware. The assemblage also indicates that
Pelican Cay was used for a long period of time. Meillacan vessels are well represented in the
deposits, which indicates that Pelican Cay was intensively used during the Caicos Islands
Meillacan phase. Although no clear transition can be observed in the data, the abundance of
Chican and Palmetto ware vessels indicate that the site continued to be heavily used thereafter,
up to the contact era and possibly into the early 16th century.
The ceramic assemblage tells us much more. However, this data is best viewed in
context with other materials and information obtained from the site. I will return to the ceramic
assemblage in the “Interpretation of Pelican Cay” section later in the chapter.
Vertebrates. An analysis of the vertebrate faunal assemblage has not been completed.
We recovered a wealth of marine, terrestrial, and avian fauna from the deposits, but I question if
a standard analysis of these remains would be productive. In particular, the fish bones we
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recovered are highly suspect. Local residents regularly fish at Pelican Cay, and have for many
decades. Sea birds also use the island to feed and roost. Unsurprisingly, we observed at least
one fish carcass on the surface of the site that had been recently filleted by a human, and others
that were probably bird kills. Because we have no way to separate those bones left by
indigenous peoples from those that found their way to the island through other means, there is no
assurance that the fish component of the vertebrate faunal assemblage has any integrity.
Analyzing the other vertebrate remains from Pelican Cay could yield fruit, but must be
undertaken with caution. Within the subsurface deposit, we identified iguanas, birds, and of all
things, the lower leg bone of a sheep or goat. Yet it is difficult to differentiate between those
creatures consumed at the site by indigenous peoples and those brought by historic-era or
modern picnickers. Caprines clearly were not among the taxa exploited by indigenous peoples,
so that is obviously an intrusive item. An analysis of the iguana and bird remains could be more
instructive. Pelican Cay is too accessible to have supported endemic iguana populations much
beyond the time at which the first peoples reach Middle Caicos, so any iguana remains in the
deposits were probably brought there intentionally. Birds were also consumed at other sites in
the Turks & Caicos, but of course, they naturally occur on Pelican Cay. Still, if any taxa
identified at Pelican Cay are not known to frequent a small cay environment (e.g. the burrowing
owl), then one could infer that indigenous peoples brought these to the island for consumption.
Invertebrates. The invertebrate faunal assemblage consists of 25 taxa, including 17
mollusks, 6 corals, a sea biscuit, and the West Indian Fuzzy Chiton (Table 6-4). The queen
conch (Strombus gigas) was the most abundant mollusk, represented by 113 specimens. Of
these, 11 were fashioned into one of four tool forms. One of these—a small conch pick from the
bottom of Unit B—was retained and submitted for radiocarbon analysis. Interestingly, we only
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identified 1.5 liters of cracked, broken conch in the Units. Although most of what we recovered
was largely intact, we did observe an abundance of cracked and burned conch elsewhere on the
surface. The West Indian Topsnail (Cittarium pica) was the second most common mollusk. We
counted 79 individuals, and a further 359 grams of pieces. We also observed a good number of
conch and topsnail shells among the surface scatter around the site, but there were no definite
piles or middens. We did not collect or measure these, given the level of historic disturbance at
Pelican Cay. Three other mollusks were well represented in the assemblage. We identified 30
MNI of Tiger Lucine clams (Codakia orbicularis), of which 8 showed use wear evidence
consistent with employment as scrapers. There were also 25 nerites (Nerita sp.) and 10 tellins
(Tellina georgiana) in the assemblage. Three of the remaining taxa of mollusk are only
represented by a handful of specimens. We identified 2 Dwarf Tiger Lucines (Codakia
orbiculata), 2 tritons (Cymatium sp.), and 4 Oliva shells, including 3 finished beads. The rest of
the taxa were represented by a single specimen. The most notable of these is an Atlantic Pearl
Oyster (Pinctata radiata), whose mother-of-pearl shell was fashioned into a variety of decorative
implements. We also identified one Olivella sp. bead, a limpit (Fissurela sp.), a Costate Lucine
(Codakia costata), and three more gastropods: a Carved Star Shell (Astraea caelata), a Common
Baby Ear (Sinum perspectivum), and a Philippi’s Nutmeg (Trigonostoma tenerum). Finally, we
recovered six species of coral. The most abundant was Stag Horn coral (Acropora cervicornis)
at 889 grams, which included 4 pieces that showed evidence of use wear. We also identified 56
grams of Elk Horn coral (Acropora palmatta), 120 grams of Star coral (Solenastria sp.), 253
grams of Brain coral (Diploria sp.), 303 grams of Boulder coral (Montastrea annularis), and 16
grams of Golf ball coral (Favia fragum).
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Analysis. As I have discussed, it would be unwise to divine much from the faunal
assemblage at Pelican Cay. Certainly some of what we recovered was deposited there by
indigenous peoples, yet there is no way to reliably separate all of the wheat from the chaff.
In contrast, the presence of shell tools is instructive, for these are undeniably prehistoric.
A wide diversity of conch shell tools was recovered, including 3 picks, 2 gouges, 2 celts, and 4
hammers. Many more tools were present among the surface scatter, but there were not collected.
We also identified 8 Tiger Lucine scrapers, several of which showed heavy use wear.
Additionally, we recovered 4 pieces of Stag Horn coral that also showed clear evidence of
abrasion.
The shell tools indicate that craft production was taking place at Pelican Cay. This is
significant, because it means that the island was not strictly viewed by indigenous peoples as a
place to picnic. Many of the tools we recovered have been associated with woodworking
activities by other scholars. Both of the conch-lip celts in the assemblage were beveled on one
edge, which Jones O’Day and Keegan associate with a “chopping, cutting, [and] woodworking”
(2001:277). Moreover, they argue that gouges could be used as a “chopper, planer, adze, or axe”
(2001:277). Although they observe that gouges were possibly employed to make dugout canoes
(2001:280), it follows that these would also be useful for rough-hewing an initial shape out of
any sizeable piece of wood. The conch picks and hammers we recovered have “multiple use
potential” and usually show evidence of “Use wear, in the form of battering and chipping due to
recurrent impacts” (Jones O’Day and Keegan 2001:284). Indeed, one of the hammers that we
recovered had a tip that had been worn down to a nub, presumably through such repetitive
pounding action. These smaller, finer tools could have been used to more precisely chip away
wood after the initial shape had been hewn out of the raw lumber. Finally, the abraded stag horn
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coral and the worn Tiger Lucine shells may have been employed as finishing implements. The
rough surface of the coral would make a fine sanding device to smooth out the chipped surface
of any wooden article. Indeed, the coral transforms itself from coarse-grit when it is fresh to
fine-grit as its surface wears down! Even the Tiger Lucine shells have a sharp enough edge to
shape, smooth, and polish wood with a whittling action. However, these have traditionally been
thought of as fish scalers and tuber peelers (Jones O’Day and Keegan 2001:288), and it is
certainly possible that they were employed in that capacity at Pelican Cay.
Compared to other sites we excavated, Pelican Cay yielded a remarkable paucity of other
cultural material. We identified only a single conch-shell bead blank and a single smooth, oval-
shaped piece of limestone that might be a polishing stone. The lack of any appreciable evidence
for bead production stands in stark contrast to all of the other sites we examined. Even small-
scale outposts like Gibbs Cay and Cotton Cay had far more substantial evidence for bead
production than Pelican Cay. This fact suggests that shell bead manufacture was not a
significant craft activity at Pelican Cay.
I obtained one radiocarbon date from Pelican Cay. It was obtained from a small conch
pick that was recovered from Level 3 of Unit B, where it sat directly on the bedrock. It was
selected for dating because of its clear indigenous cultural affiliation and location at the bottom
of the most productive Unit we excavated at the site. Although we recovered a good amount of
charcoal from the Units, I was loath to submit any of this material given the number of historic-
era campfire pits and conch kilns on the island. It seemed a lot safer to date a diagnostically
“Indian” artifact from the bottom of the indigenous deposit. The sample was submitted to Beta
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Analytic for standard radiometric analysis, and was calibrated and adjusted for local reservoir
correction. It was assigned designation Beta 242675, and the intercept of the radiocarbon age
with the calibration curve occurred at Cal AD 1050 +/-50, with a two-sigma range of Cal AD
980-1180 (Appendix C).
Analysis. The radiocarbon date from Pelican Cay implies that the island has a deep
history that began around the middle of the 11th century. Additional evidence from the ceramic
assemblage at Pelican Cay strongly suggests that it was actively exploited by indigenous peoples
for many centuries thereafter, right up to European contact and perhaps beyond. As such, the
site was contemporaneous with other settlements on Middle Caicos throughout its tenure.
Because the people who used Pelican Cay probably did not live there permanently, it is
important to consider Pelican Cay in context with these neighboring settlements. These sites are
where the people who used Pelican Cay lived the rest of the time, and comparisons between
them will shed light on how and why Pelican Cay was used, and by whom. There are three sites
of significance, all of which have been described in detail elsewhere in this dissertation. The
nearest is MC-32, which lies adjacent to the beach only 900 meters southeast of Pelican Cay.
MC-32 was occupied from the middle of the 13th century until after contact. The next nearest
site is MC-12, which is located adjacent to the beach 2.45 km west-southwest of Pelican Cay.
MC-12 has been radiometrically dated to AD 1040 (Carlson 1999:144) and was also occupied up
to contact. Finally, there is MC-6. It is the largest and most complex site on the island, but is
located on the south coast of Middle Caicos some 5 km from Pelican Cay. Still, it maintained
social and economic ties with both MC-12 and MC-32, and consequently must have played a
role in the activities at Pelican Cay.
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Interpretation of Pelican Cay
Inherent biases in some of the data from Pelican Cay somewhat limit an interpretation of
the island. As I have already lamented, the faunal record is particularly problematic. Still, it
would be helpful to compare relevant aspects of the Pelican Cay faunal record to that of MC-32,
MC-12, and MC-6. As discussed in Chapter 2, the people on the north coast of Middle Caicos
exploited a different set of resources than their counterparts at MC-6 on the south coast of the
island. It would be illuminating to learn if the faunal items consumed at Pelican Cay were
primarily collected from the northern coastal zone of Middle Caicos, or if taxa from the southern
coastal zone were represented in any appreciable quantity. If my assumption that some residents
of MC-6 were also using Pelican Cay as part of the island-wide social network is correct, then
one might expect to find a higher incidence of southern coastal zone taxa at Pelican Cay,
transported in by visitors from the south side of the island. It would also be helpful to know if
the assemblage included a disproportionate amount of “status” food items like iguana, birds, and
turtle.
The sheer volume of ceramics, the high ratio of imported vessels to Palmetto ware, and
the abundance of decorated and specialty vessels clearly indicate that the site was not a simple
outpost frequented by small, itinerant groups of fishermen, but something more intensive and
socially significant. Below I address each of these points and hypothesize on their significance.
The first and perhaps most obvious interpretation is that people used a lot of pottery at
Pelican Cay. Ceramic densities exceed that of any other site we examined in this project. Yet
the island, and indeed the site itself, are tiny in comparison. The primary activity area is no more
than 20 x 12 meters, and we identified only one probable structure at the site. Clearly, there is
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not enough space to support a population of a magnitude that would have required so many
vessels for daily use. The only alternative is that the pots were all transported to Pelican Cay for
some special purpose beyond satisfying the daily, pedestrian needs of a necessarily small group
of inhabitants. I argue that this is strong evidence of recurrent ritual feasting at Pelican Cay.
The term “feast” has many definitions within anthropology (Dietler and Hayden 2001:3).
However Hayden (2001:28) captures it nicely as “any sharing between two or more people of
special foods (i.e. foods not generally served at daily meals) in a meal for a special purpose or
occasion.” Granted, the limited faunal data do not permit conjecture about the kinds of foods
served at Pelican Cay vis-a-vis those consumed at the neighboring domestic settlements.
Nevertheless, it is certain that food consumption on the island was part of a “special purpose or
occasion.” The ceramics were not for daily use: people could not have lived on the island
permanently, and must have visited Pelican Cay sporadically for specific reasons. In doing so,
they transported massive quantities of cooking and serving utensils—and by extension, the
foodstuffs contained within—specifically for use and consumption on this little rock 650 meters
offshore. Because there is no ecological or strict economic reason mandating this behavior, this
deliberate act indicates that food consumption at Pelican Cay had a purpose beyond satisfying
one’s daily caloric requirements. That purpose could only have been social in nature, and
periodic, socialized food consumption outside of the daily, domestic realm should be enough to
meet any anthropological criteria for “feasting.”
More specifically, the archaeological evidence from Pelican Cay corresponds neatly with
several of Hayden’s “Archaeological Signatures of Feasts” (2001:40) that he compiled from a
vast, global corpus of ethnographic and archaeological evidence. We identified “Unusual
numbers” of vessels, an “Unusual quality” of vessels in the form of a high ratio of imported to
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locally-produced wares and a high ratio of decorated pots, and an “Unusual number of serving
vessels” not seen at other sites in the area (Hayden 2001:40). Furthermore, the island itself fits
Hayden’s “Special locations” criteria: “Mortuary or remote locations that clearly are not
habitation sites (e.g. in front of Megalithic tombs, at henge monuments, inside caves)” (2001:40).
Given its size, Pelican Cay is clearly not a habitation site. However, its location near to—yet
separate from—the main settlements on the north coast of Middle Caicos must have imbued it
with a certain mystique.
If feasting took place at Pelican Cay, then who was on the guest list? The second
interpretation offered by the ceramic assemblage sheds light on this question. The Spanish
chroniclers noted that ceremonial feasts were frequent, and occurred in conjunction with all
manner of observances and events. Caciques organized the affairs, and a visiting potentate was
always feted as a guest of honor. Columbus himself was treated to a “welcoming” feast hosted
by Guacanagari the day after the Santa Maria was wrecked (Morrison 1942:303), which in
hindsight must be one of history’s greatest ironies. From these accounts, it follows that the local
elites were feasting at Pelican Cay, and this is borne out by the archaeological evidence.
The first line of evidence for elite feasting comes from the ratio of imported ceramics to
Palmetto ware. Before I discuss the particulars of this fact, it is useful to explore how imported
ceramics are associated with elite status in the region. Among the Taino, there was a pronounced
difference in the ceramics used by elite and non-elite households. Elite households had many
more pots, a wider variety of kinds of pots (such as serving vessels), and more decorated pots
than their non-elite counterparts (Deagan 2004:614). Therefore, the people who migrated to the
Turks & Caicos from Hispaniola brought with them a concept of elites’ expanded and
preferential access to some kinds of ceramics. Over time this concept evolved its own form of
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expression in the Bahama archipelago, influenced by the advent of locally produced Palmetto
ware and the logistics of obtaining Hispaniolan ceramics. After Palmetto ware is incorporated
into the local material culture, there is no pressing economic need to acquire pots from
Hispaniola in order to feed oneself. Indeed, if ceramics were purely functional aspects of
subsistence, then we could reasonably expect to see virtually zero Hispaniolan pottery at
Bahamian sites beyond the 14th century. Yet imported pots are found at every sizeable
settlement in the Turks & Caicos from that time period. Thus, imported ceramics evolved from
filling daily utilitarian needs to meeting social ones. They become symbols that help replicate
important aspects the Hispaniolan worldview, and tangibly demonstrate cultural ties with
ancestral groups and current trading partners (see Sinelli 2001). Because they are special, rare,
expensive, and difficult to obtain, not everyone in Lucayan society will enjoy equal access to
imported ceramics. Indeed, those who control trade (i.e. the elites—see Chapter 4) also control
how these materials are allocated in the Turks & Caicos. These elites are also primarily charged
with maintaining and replicating the social order, via their roles as chiefs and holy men, which
grants them stewardship of both the real and supernatural realms. As imported pots became
socially-charged items, it is natural that the social stewards would control and employ these as
they had other symbols of natural and supernatural power and authority. Thus, imported
ceramics of any kind became linked with elite status in the southern Bahama archipelago.
Even so, this measure is temporally dependent and cannot always be interpreted as
evidence of an elite presence in the Turks & Caicos. For example, the ceramic assemblage at
site MC-8/MC-10 on the south coast of Middle Caicos is comprised of more than 98% imported
vessels, yet no one believes that this was the seat of a powerful chief. Rather, the site was
occupied by migratory Hispaniolans at a time when Palmetto ware was not widely employed in
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the region. The assemblage consists of imported vessels because other alternatives simply were
not available and pots brought from home were sufficient to see them through their brief sojourn.
As such, the relationship between imported vessels and an elite presence can only be assumed for
later settlements. Pelican Cay and all its associated sites have occupation horizons that date to
this timeframe.
The ceramic assemblage at Pelican Cay includes a high ratio of imported ceramics to
Palmetto ware. By sherd count, imported ceramics account for 51.7% of the subsurface,
excavated assemblage. Recall that Pelican Cay was contemporaneous with three other sites on
Middle Caicos. MC-12 was established around the same time as Pelican Cay (AD 1050 and AD
1040, respectively) and was occupied until contact. Yet imported ceramics were never a
significant part of the assemblage at MC-12, even in the 11th century. Although a small number
of both Meillacan and Chican sherds were identified at the site, “it is apparent that 95 percent of
the pottery was Palmetto ware” (Keegan 2007:90,139). Site MC-6 was occupied from the 15th
century through contact and into the 16th century. Excavations at MC-6 produced a result similar
to that at MC-12: “the vast majority of the pottery (94%) is undecorated and locally made
Palmetto ware” (Keegan 2007:184). Although some highly decorated Chican sherds were
identified, Hispaniolan ceramics were not widely employed. Even more precise data are
available for MC-32. The earliest deposits at the site date to AD 1290, and the presence of Old
World rat bones indicate it was occupied through the contact period (Keegan 2007:164,168).
MC-32 is the closest site to Pelican Cay, and certainly, many of the people who used the site
must have hailed from there. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the ceramic assemblage at MC-32 is more
similar to that of Pelican Cay than any of the others. MC-32 has a higher incidence of imported
pottery, with Meillacan and Chican sherds accounting for 19.7% of the subsurface excavated
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assemblage (Sullivan 1981:296, Keegan 2007:167). Still, 4 out of 5 sherds at this site were
locally-made Palmetto ware. In sum, the unparalleled abundance of imported ceramics at
Pelican Cay strongly suggests that elite persons from neighboring sites were using the island for
periodic feasts. No other post-14th century site on Middle Caicos has such a high proportion of
elite-privileged ceramics.
The third interpretation gleaned from the ceramic assemblage further supports the
premise that Pelican Cay was the site of elite feasting. Pelican Cay has not only a higher
occurrence of decorated imported vessels, but also a high incidence of imported vessel forms
used exclusively by elite households. At En Bas Saline, Deagan recovered more than 70,000
Chican sherds from contexts ranging from the 13th century to the early 16th century. She
discovered that between 6 and 7% of the sherds were decorated (Deagan 2004:612). Given the
size of her sample, this could be construed as a “baseline” rate at which local potters decorated
their vessels. Because this is also the region of Hispaniola with which the Caicos Bank
settlements were affiliated, it is also reasonable to assume that this baseline rate would have
applied to vessels being transported from Haiti to these sites in trade. The fact that this figure is
nearly in line with the ratio of decorated sherds at Middleton (8.8%) and Spud (7.6%) seems to
support his hypothesis. Remarkably, the frequency of decorated imported sherds at Pelican Cay
is 12.3%—nearly twice the baseline rate, and well in excess of figures observed at other
contemporaneous Caicos Bank sites. Moreover, this figure does not include five mat-marked
body sherds of Palmetto ware we recovered, which are similar to those described by Keegan at
MC-32 (2007:168). The higher incidence of decorated pottery at the site supports the notion that
it was used by elite individuals who enjoyed differential access to these materials. Furthermore,
there were a number of special-use vessel forms at Pelican Cay that Deagan only identified in
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elite contexts and households: “Boat-shaped bowls, platters, and small round bowls are absent
from the non-elite household and were probably associated with consumption or specialized
functions unrelated to food preparation” (2004:615). We recovered rim sherds from 3 boat-
shaped bowls, 2 platters or plates, 2 small round bowls (diameter of orifice = 8 cm), and one very
small round bowl (diameter of orifice = 6 cm) with unusually thick walls (11.5 mm). We also
identified part of an effigy pot that was formed into a stylized human face. Because these vessel
forms are not only associated exclusively with elites, but also are “associated with consumption
or specialized functions,” the implication is clear. Elite members of Middle Caicos society were
visiting Pelican Cay periodically to feast.
Now that I have hopefully demonstrated that Pelican Cay was the site of elite feasting, it
is important to consider the reasons behind this behavior. Why did Middle Caicos elites
periodically gather at Pelican Cay for ritual food consumption? Although Deagan observed that
“The social functions of ritual feasting among the Taino are not yet well understood (2004:619),
Hayden’s synthesis makes it possible to understand the social significance of elite feasting at
Pelican Cay.
On the surface, feasts are expensive, time consuming, and somewhat frivolous affairs.
However, in indigenous societies, feasts are more of an investment than an expenditure: “Feasts
are techniques for transforming surpluses into socially, economically, and politically useful
currencies that can be used to further individual and group self-interest and survival” (Hayden
2001:58, emphasis his). Therefore, feasts are “adaptive”; a means to an end, a vehicle through
which social relations within and between groups are negotiated. Thus, in indigenous societies,
feasts are necessary. They are a “behavior that has some practical benefits” and pays dividends
in excess of the initial outlay in labor and resources, which in many cases can be considerable
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(Hayden 2001:24). In this vein, I argue that the elite feasts held at Pelican Cay played a critical
role in maintaining the social order necessary to sustain the export-based prehistoric economy of
Middle Caicos.
Hayden (2001:29-30) lists nine “basic types of practical benefits” reaped from feasting:
1. mobilize labor
2. create cooperative relationships within groups or conversely,
exclude different groups.
3. create cooperative alliances between social groups (including
political support between households)
4. invest surpluses and generate profits
5. attract desirable mates, labor, allies, or wealth exchanges by
advertising the success of the group
6. create political power (control over resources and labor) through the
creation of a network of reciprocal debts
7. extract surplus produce from the general populace for elite use
8. solicit favors
9. compensate for transgressions
Not all of these are equally relevant in the Pelican Cay equation. For example, there is no way to
know if feasts on the island were initiated to apologize for some slight or misdeed. However, the
nature of the relationship between residents of MC-32 and perhaps MC-12 on the north coast of
Middle Caicos and MC-6 on the south coast strongly implies that some mechanism for
negotiating social obligations would have been present. Logically, the elites would be the ones
handling the negotiations. Their efforts would ensure that the status quo was maintained.
Keegan contends that the residents of MC-32 were social and economic equals to those at
the much larger MC-6: “we do not need to conceive of their relationship as one of corvee labor
in which people from MC-32 were conscripted…they may have been full partners” (2007:170).
If so, then elite feasting at Pelican Cay might have been employed to maintain the unique Middle
Caicos economic system to everyone’s benefit. From the MC-32 perspective, remaining “full
partners” ensured that people living on the north coast of Middle Caicos did not become mere
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vassals of their larger and more powerful southern neighbor. It also preserved the link between
north coast settlements and the lifeline to the ancestral Hispaniolan homelands. The residents of
MC-32 clearly valued their ties to Hispaniola, for “MC-32 shows the strongest affinities to
Hispaniola of any Lucayan site” (Keegan 2007:168). This would be a powerful incentive for the
residents of the north coast to maintain cordial social relations with those in the south, for the
elites at MC-6 controlled the flow of Hispaniolan goods into the region. From the MC-6
perspective, harmonious relations ensured that they continued to enjoy access to the resources
over which north coast settlements had exclusive control (e.g. reef and pelagic fish). It would
also guarantee that calls for labor from MC-32 during the brief time salt was available for harvest
on Armstrong Pond were not ignored. This interpretation fits with Hayden’s assertion that
“establishing desirable social relations constitutes the bottom line for many feasts” (2001:30). In
sum, good social relations among the Middle Caicos settlements assured an economic win-win
for everyone involved.
Feasts organized by north coast elites for their south coast associates could create a
reciprocal debt obligation that enhanced the power and social standing of the hosts. Hayden
observed: “In terms of feasting, one of the most powerful enforcing criteria is the acceptance of a
contractual debt when one accepts an invitation to a feast intended to create social bonds or
reciprocal obligations. Debt relationships also prolong and maintain the “status” associated with
gift giving because the “superior” status is active as long as the gift has not been repaid”
(2001:35). Essentially, elite feasting at Pelican Cay propels the north coast elites to first among
equals until the favor is returned at MC-6 and the cycle renews. Presumably, this dynamic of
alternating power relations would continue as long as everyone returned a proper feast with a
proper feast.
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The social relations negotiated between the north and south coast settlements of Middle
Caicos through elite feasting would have been multifaceted, and mesh nicely with several of
Hayden’s (2001:29-30) nine “practical benefits.” Feasts would create and maintain the
overarching “cooperative relationships” and “alliances” that facilitated more mundane aspects of
social relations. For example, as “partners,” people from the north coast would be expected to
contribute their labor and resources to facilitate the lucrative export trade with Hispaniola that
operated out of MC-6. Feasts would also provide an opportunity for residents of multiple
villages to negotiate marriage arrangements in accordance with their exogamous social norms.
Marital ties between villages, particularly among the elite, would further cement the mutually
beneficial partnership among the Middle Caicos settlements. Such alliances were an intrinsic
part of the avunculocal residence pattern practiced by the Taino (Keegan and Maclachlan 1989).
In sum, Pelican Cay as a venue for elite feasting played a critical role in maintaining the
social and economic fabric of Middle Caicos society. It is clear from the ceramic assemblage
that special people were using this tiny island for special occasions that facilitated the negotiation
of power between the various Middle Caicos settlements. But Pelican Cay was not simply a
banquet hall for local power brokers. I now turn to other aspects of the archaeological record to
explore other ways in which the cay was used, all of which were equally important to daily life
elsewhere on Middle Caicos.
The shell tool assemblage
As discussed above, many of the shell tools we identified in the deposits at Pelican Cay
are thought by scholars to be wood-working implements. Why was there a woodworking
industry on Pelican Cay, what does this tell us about how Pelican Cay was used, and how does
this relate to elite feasting on the island?
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Feasts are not only about food. They include a broad array of other material, which is
incorporated into the festivities and is in many ways as important to the ritual as the meal itself:
Food is not the only material item, however, whose production is

intensified for communal ceremony. Feasting may create demands
for larger cooking and more elaborate serving vessels. In addition,
the need for ceremonial garments and ornamentation, as well as
demands for other social valuables used or displayed in ceremonial
contexts, creates demand for material goods that are met through
economic intensification (Spielmann 2002:197).
I argue that the woodworking tools we recovered from Pelican Cay represent craft production of
ceremonial items that were critical components of not only the feasts that took place on the
island, but also other ceremonial activities on Pelican Cay and at other communities. I also
propose that these activities were carried out at Pelican Cay because of the island’s perception as
a special/sacred place among the local residents made it the appropriate venue in which to
construct symbolically charged items, and that such items would carry additional symbolic heft
by virtue of their manufacture at Pelican Cay.
It is appropriate to begin with a brief overview of Taino wooden artifacts. The Taino
were expert woodworkers and crafted a variety of important ceremonial items such as wooden
seats known as duhos and cemis (see Bercht et al 1997 for many wonderful photos of their art).
Importantly, it is known that many of these were manufactured in the Bahama archipelago, and
were not all acquired from the Greater Antilles (Ostapkowicz 1997). Indeed, the Turks & Caicos
had a well developed woodworking industry with its own unique style: “The exceptional
duho…from an unprovenienced cave in the Turks & Caicos Islands bears testimony to the high
caliber of Taino/Lucayan woodworking skill” (Ostapkowicz 1997:63). The precision with which
wooden items were made suggests that dedicated craftspeople were in charge of production, and
that these craftspeople were enjoyed elevated social status: “The extraordinary skill [and] the
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amount of labor investment entailed…would certainly lend further credibility to the existence of
craft specialists…It is possible to suggest that caciques and cacicas became patrons to skilled
artisans, and that this association may have brought with it particular status and privilege for both
parties” (Ostapkowicz 1997:66). Furthermore, it appears that gender did not factor into the
production, ownership, and distribution of wooden items, and that elite men and women had
comparable access to and control over the items (Ostapkowicz 1997:66).
Functionally, wooden items played important roles in ceremonial life. Cemis
representing deities from the Taino pantheon, ancestors, and cosmologically important animals
were carved from wood and other media, and were employed at both the household and
collective level (Arrom 1997, Roe 1997). Yet perhaps the most circumscribed and socially
charged wooden items were the duhos. Duhos were status items reserved for certain important
people, and fulfilled critical aspects of social ceremonial performance:
Duhos were used during important ceremonial occasions, and their

presence separated their high-ranking owners from the rest of the
community, marking them as distinct. An indispensable part of
ritual paraphernalia, the duhos were intimately linked to
hallucinogens and communication with numerous powers. The
often elaborate carvings of the duhos represented zemis and
ancestors, visually and symbolically supporting the seated
individuals and lending authority to their position and status.
(Ostapkowicz 1997:56)
Duhos are also associated with ritual feasting:
Duhos were an important component of Taino ritual contexts, and

prestige and power were intimately linked with their use. Such
socially and politically charged events as the greeting and feasting
of foreign dignitaries, allies, and kin presented opportune times to
emphasize the status of the hosts. (Ostapkowicz 1997:63)
Some wooden cemis and duhos were inlaid with other materials. The Turks & Caicos duho
described earlier exhibited “facial features and shoulders [that] are deeply carved for the
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inclusion of gold, stone, and shell inlay” (Ostapkowicz 1997:63). During our test excavations at
Pelican Cay in 1999, we recovered a shell tooth inlay “made from conch shell and cut to
represent teeth; it would have been fitted in the mouth of a wooden idol” (Keegan 2007:161).
Given the role that wooden items played in social relations, one would expect that such
items were employed at a socially significant place like Pelican Cay. The tooth inlay we
recovered in 1999 supports this idea and indicates that some large, ornate, wooden ceremonial
item was present on the island. It may have been an idol, as Keegan suggests (see Arrom 1997:
Plate 54 for a shell tooth inlaid cemi statue). If so, the item may have been incorporated into
shamanistic or other ritual ceremonies executed on the island (see Roe 1997 for a thorough
description of these ceremonies). Alternatively, the inlay may also have been affixed to a duho
(see Ostapkowicz 1997:Plate 45 for a shell tooth inlaid duho). If Pelican Cay was the site of elite
ritual feasting, it certainly follows that status items that are directly associated with these
activities, like duhos, would have been employed by chiefs at the site. Moreover, duhos were
used by behiques in the cohoba ritual, in which the Taino shamans communicated with the
supernatural realm. After preparing himself through ritual purification and ingesting narcotics,
“the Taino shaman ‘centered’ himself on his carved wooden duho as a human axis mundi
elevated above the earth plane…From that hunched position, he called the world of the spirits
into being through the force of his thoughts” (Roe 1997:141). Whether the inlay was affixed to
duho or cemi, its presence at Pelican Cay adds credence to the idea that this was a special island
where chiefly and shamanistic activities took place.
Let us return to the woodworking tools. Why would Pelican Cay be an appropriate place
to manufacture these ornate wooden artifacts, or “socially valued goods” as Spielmann (2002)
has termed them? Spielmann cites a wealth of ethnographic and archaeological data
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demonstrating that where an item came from, or where it was made, frequently enhances its
social value (2002:199-200). As a consequence, there can be a widespread demand for socially
valued goods from a particular provenience. Those that control production of these socially
valued goods at a particular provenience sometimes intensify production of such crafts in order
to satisfy this broad societal demand. Therefore, valuable items are frequently produced in
surplus, so they can be traded and circulated throughout the broader society (Spielmann
2002:201).
The archaeological evidence indicates that Pelican Cay was ritually charged. As such,
wooden prestige items produced there could have been imbued with additional social
significance. Although wooden items like cemis and duhos were needed to satisfy the ritual
needs of the north coast settlements of Middle Caicos, these needs would have been quite limited
given the small size of the settlements. It is more likely that wooden items produced at Pelican
Cay were traded across a broader geography, perhaps even to settlements in Hispaniola, where
the geographical distance from the exotic, magical source would have only enhanced their value.
Perhaps this is why the material culture at MC-32 has a greater affinity with Hispaniolan
settlements than any other village in the region. The socially valued goods they crafted at
Pelican Cay would command a princely sum in trade from the elites of Hispaniola.
Finally, there is some analogical evidence that wooden prestige items were themselves
manufactured within a ritual context. Based on the high volume of craft item “production by-
products” recovered from a 13th century feasting pit at En Bas Saline, Deagan hypothesized that
“the production of implements and craft items for ritual feasting or exchange was incorporated as
part of the…event.” The data from Pelican Cay are insufficient to know for certain if
woodworking was executed in a ritual context, for wood “debitage” does not survive in this
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archaeological context. Still, we have the woodworking tools. If Pelican Cay was a sacred
place, then by extension, activities at the site would be limited to those that had a certain social
significance. Thus, if socially valued wooden items were being produced on the island, it could
only have occurred within this sacred context. Basically, everything that happened at Pelican
Cay was special, be it an elite feast designed to negotiate local power relations, a shamanistic
ritual, or the production of socially valued wooden items for distribution around the region.
Concluding thoughts on Pelican Cay
Pelican Cay is an archetype for the “Ritual Center” site. People did not live here, but
used the site for socially important activities. Why was this little island used this way? Viewed
from the beach, Pelican Cay appears as earth suspended between sea and sky (Figure 6-1). This
makes it a literal, physical manifestation of the three layers of the Taino cosmos, as described by
Siegel (1989, 1997): “Like many other pre-Columbian cultures of the Americas, the Taino
worldview was based on a concentric model of the universe, with three distinct layers
representing various planes of reality. The earthly plane, in the middle, was surrounded by a
celestial vault above and subterranean waters below” (Siegel 1997:108). These realms were
linked by an “axis mundi” which connected “the various spheres, or layers, of the cosmos”
(Siegel 1997:109). A shaman, “as the intermediary between the human group and the spirit
world, travels along the axis mundi between the various layers of the cosmos” (Siegel 1997:108).
By virtue of its location as earth between sea and sky, I argue that Pelican Cay was the axis
mundi that, in the local worldview, connected all three aspects of the universe.
Siegel’s synthesis of the Taino worldview is based upon ethnographic, enthnohistoric,
and archaeological data from the Amazon basin and the Greater Antilles concerning the Tainos’
South American and Saladoid ancestors. Among these cultures, the axis mundi is typically
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manifest at the center of something: a single structure, a cluster of structures, or perhaps
something at the center of the village itself, like a cemetery or plaza. The circular layout of
contemporary Amazonian settlements and archaeologically documented Puerto Rican villages he
discusses supports this notion, where the center and its axis mundi represents sacred space, and
the periphery profane space (Siegel 1997:109). However, these are landlocked settlements, and
none were positioned on smaller islands like those in the Bahama archipelago. On Middle
Caicos, the sea is far more accessible than in Amazonia or most of Puerto Rico, and is no more
than a couple hours walk from any point on the island. Consequently, indigenous peoples were
able to adopt a more precise expression of the axis mundi—one that literally linked earth, sea,
and sky to even the most casual observer—rather than relying exclusively upon other constructs
in the absence of regular access to the sea. Individual households and villages in the Bahama
archipelago may have had their own axis mundi, but in some cases, the paramount link between
the three realms could be found just offshore. In this regard, small near-offshore islands like
Pelican Cay may have been proxies for caves, which played a prominent role in Taino
mythology (Pane 1999:5-6) and had sacred meaning as conduits to the underworld (Stevens-
Arroyo 2006:183).
As the axis mundi linking the three realms of the cosmos, Pelican Cay would have been
the epicenter of sacred space. Siegel contrasts sacred space from profane space in this three-
tiered worldview as follows:
There exists throughout the Amazon basin a constellation of

attributes that characterize the sacred and profane realms of the
cosmological landscape. The sacred is marked by such features as
center of house, center of village, men, social life, ritual activity,
food consumption, cooked food, and hallucinogenic beverages.
This contrasts with the profane, which is represented by house
periphery, village periphery, women and children, domestic life,
nonritual activity, food production, and raw food. (1997:109).
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The archaeological evidence from Pelican Cay places the island squarely within Siegel’s
definition of sacred space. The ceramic assemblage indicates that much food was consumed, and
the high incidence of specialized vessels, effigy vessels, and serving vessels suggests that much
food was being cooked elsewhere for consumption on the island. The shell tooth inlay indicates
that ritual activity, perhaps including the ingestion of hallucinogens, occurred at the site.
Although there were exceptions (Ostapkowicz 1997), these activities were largely the purview of
men—caciques were usually men, as were shamans (Roe 1997:138). Finally, Pelican Cay was
separate from the primary settlements, where the “women and children, domestic life, nonritual
activity, food production, and raw food” associated with the profane were ubiquitous.
In conclusion, all of the evidence points to Pelican Cay as a sacred place used by elite
residents of the north shore settlements on Middle Caicos and their guests. It appears that the
island was the venue for elite feasts, shamanistic rituals, and the production of symbolically
significant special value items. Based on its location, the island was viewed by the local
populace as the axis mundi which linked their real world to other planes of the Taino cosmos.
Clearly this is an important site. It tells us a great deal about the social order of the prehistoric
Turks & Caicos Islands, and offers insight into broader settlement strategies that should be
pursued elsewhere in the West Indies.
Dove Cay
Data
Physical description of Dove Cay
I described the physical nature of Dove Cay in Chapter 2. There is no need to repeat that
discussion here, so I will turn to the description of the site itself.
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Description of the Dove Cay site
Unlike Pelican Cay, the Dove Cay site is unremarkable when viewed from the surface.
The only detectable portion of the site is located on the northern side of the somewhat flat, 40 by
25 meter, interior of the island. This region sits between 3 and 6 meters above the water, and
slopes precipitously toward the sea at its periphery (Figure 6-21). The only observable surface
evidence primarily consists of a darker anthrosol that contrasts with the whiter, sterile sand that
covers the interior. A minimal deposit of fire-cracked limestone and broken conch parts is
eroding out of the eastern periphery of this area and down the slope (Figure 6-22). This is the
area where Winn Phillips identified the twin pot. Additional areas of light surface scatter were
detected westward of the eroded deposit. Interestingly, none of the surface scatter included any
ceramics, but was dominated by fire-cracked rock, broken conch bits, and the occasional
expedient shell tool. Additionally, a modest conch pile sits near the island’s western tip adjacent
to the beach (Figure 6-23). It contained both punched and modern-killed conch in roughly equal
numbers. A map of the island and these features appears in Figure 6-24.
Excavation details
Although we visited Dove Cay on three separate occasions, conditions conspired against
us and we were not able to complete much work there. Our first visit was late on May 22, 2004,
when we conducted the survey, identified the site, and discovered the twin pot. Although we
were there for less than 2 hours, this was arguably our most productive day on the island. We
returned the next morning, May 23rd, to begin test excavations, but were only able to enjoy a few
hours of work before the weather deteriorated. Rising winds and fast-moving black clouds ahead
of a tropical disturbance forced us depart around 11 AM. Torrential rains and dangerous winds
marooned us on South Caicos for the next two days, and we were not able to return until the
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morning of May 26th. Even though the weather was pleasant, the archaeology was unproductive
and I decided to abandon Dove Cay after lunch in favor of more promising work at Middleton.
As such, we only spent 1 full day at the site, accounting for 11 person-days of work.
We completed two 1 x 1 meter Units on the northeastern and northwestern corners of the
flat interior area (Figure 6-25). Unit A was situated in the northwestern corner on an area of
surface scatter. Unit B was placed approximately 18 meters to the east, in the northeastern
corner of the flat area. It sat on a level grade directly adjacent to the slope that the material had
been eroding down. I also executed two 50 x 50 cm Test Units 150 cm north of Unit B, on the
slope with the eroding deposit, where the twin pot was recovered. These formed a small trench
that I named Unit C.
When we began on the 23rd we set about placing the 1 x 1 meter Units where we
observed some surface scatter. We immediately noticed that the upper stratum was sterile beach
sand, but proceeded carefully with trowels and brushes. While most of the team began
excavating the Units, I took three students to the windward side of the island to investigate a
small cave we discovered during the survey. Because the presence of the twin pot suggested that
Dove Cay was a special place, I wanted to determine if the cave had been used in prehistory.
The mouth of the cave was filled with rocks (Figure 6-26), but we managed to clean it out and
dig a shovel test (Figure 6-27). A note in my field journal succinctly describes our reward:
“Finished moving several thousand pounds of limestone and dirt. No burial—natural formation”
(Figure 6-28). When we were finished we returned to the main excavation areas, but the weather
had begun to turn and we left shortly thereafter. The teams excavating the Units hardly fared
better in our absence—they had not yet breached the sterile overburden and had discovered
nothing but rocks and a handful of conch parts in the screens.
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When we returned three days later we brought shovels to accelerate our progress through
the sterile overburden. We screened this material anyway, but recovered nothing that was
identifiably cultural. Indeed, neither Unit produced anything in Level 1 beyond the few scraps of
fire-cracked rock and conch pieces on the surface. However, we observed a distinct change in
soil structure below this sterile stratum. For Unit A, it occurred between 45 and 51 cm below the
surface. It was shallower in Unit B, occurring between 28 and 42 cm below the surface. This
change in the natural stratigraphy suggested that we had finally reached the deposit, so I
terminated Level 1 and initiated Level 2. At this point we also set aside the shovels and resumed
excavations with trowels and brushes.
The darker soil in Level 2 proved almost as sterile as the matrix above it. In both Units,
the Level 2 matrix began as very dark, and the contrast was immediate and obvious. As we
proceeded through Level 2, the matrix gradually lightened to a grayish color, and eventually
terminated, again abruptly, at yet another layer of pure white sterile sand. Although the
stratigraphy suggests that some human activity was responsible for the abrupt shifts in soil
constituents, we recovered virtually nothing in this Level 2 for either Unit to confirm that the
feature was truly anthropogenic.
Unit C, which consisted of two contiguous 50 x 50 cm square units plotted down the
slope as a trench (Figure 6-29), was only slightly more productive. The upper 50 x 50 produced
dark soils from the surface to between 40 and 50 cm, but yielded very little. The lower 50 x 50
contained darker soils through the first 10 cm, then abruptly transitioned to white, sterile sand. It
also produced little material of significance.
Overall, our excavations at Dove Cay produced very little data. I do not know how big
the site is or where the primary deposit is located. One fact seems clear: whatever cultural
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material remains on Dove Cay lies under as much as half a meter of wind-blown and/or wave-
deposited sand. From the surface scatter and material eroding down the slope, it seems clear that
some human activity took place on the northern end of the flat interior area. Yet it is impossible
to determine the scope and scale of these activities from the meager archaeological evidence.
Results
The twin pot comprises the entire ceramic assemblage of Dove Cay. We did not identify
a single sherd anywhere on the surface or in any of the matrix removed from Units A-C. There
is no vertical or horizontal distribution to discuss, so I will focus on the twin pot itself.
The twin pot is an entire third of a small bowl. It was given this informal moniker almost
immediately because of the duo of anthropomorphic figures that adorn the handle (Figure 6-30,
Figure 6-31). The vessel is thin (4 mm) and small, with an orifice of 8 cm in diameter. The
surface is highly burnished, but there is some erosion of the interior bowl surface resulting from
the manner in which it lay in the ground (the interior bowl was exposed to the elements: the
handle and exterior lay buried beneath the surface of the slope near Units B and C). The
decorative motifs present on the vessel, as well as its shape, seem to combine elements of both
Meillacan and Chican subseries. The twins themselves are appliqué, which is a diagnostically
Meillacan motif. Moreover, the incised lines present on the shoulder of the vessel beneath the
rim were executed while the clay was still somewhat wet (Figure 6-32)—again, a Meillacan trait
(Rouse, 1939, 1941). However, the pattern of the incised lines are somewhat curvilinear (Figure
6-32, Figure 6-33), and more closely resemble Chican patterns of decoration. Additionally, the
neck of the vessel constricts slightly before rising to an outward-flaring rim, which is also more
common in the Chican subseries than in the Meillacan. As such, the vessel is somewhat
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enigmatic: it shows clear Meillacan motifs, particularly in the appliqué technique employed to
form the twins, yet also incorporates some aspects that are more commonly associated with
Chican ceramics. This makes it difficult to determine its specific cultural affiliation, but if I were
forced to choose, I would opt for Meillacan. The darker brown clay used to form the vessel also
supports this assertion, although no detailed paste analysis has yet been attempted.
It reasons that the other half of the pot also had a handle with two other appliqué
anthropomorphic forms. If so, the vessel could represent some aspect of the duality of the
indigenous worldview, or perhaps relate to a specific story in their mythology. It is almost
certainly not a utilitarian vessel: such a small, highly decorated pot would not have been used for
cooking, but for serving or some other, more ritualized purpose. In any event, it is beyond the
scope of this dissertation to probe in detail the specific significance of the twin pot and the
manner in which it may have been used at Dove Cay. I will explore this matter in a future
publication, with the greenstone cemi recovered from Spud.
Vertebrates. A trace amount of fish bone was recovered from Unit C. This material has
not been analyzed. As we discovered at Pelican Cay, this material may also be the product of
bird kills, or perhaps historic-era fishing. If anyone is ever interested in analyzing this material,
he or she should take that possibility into account.
Invertebrates. We recovered some slivers of burned and cracked conch on the surface
of every Unit. Collectively, these amounted to less than 100 grams. Below the surface, we
identified a single limpet, 231 grams of unmodified Monastrea coral in Level 2 of Unit A, and a
single 4 gram periwinkle (Littorina sp.) in Level 2 of Unit B. Unit C was wildly productive by
comparison, yielding a total of 2 small conch picks from the top of Level 1 in the upper 50 x 50
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of the trench. Additionally, we recovered 33 grams of unmodified Acropora cervicornis coral
from this Unit.
Analysis. Given the limited nature of the assemblage and the fact that most of it could
have found its way onto the island via natural processes, there is little it can tell us. The handful
of fish bones we recovered could have been deposited by pelicans, gulls, ospreys, or any of the
multifarious marine fowl that have fed on and around Dove Cay for years. The limpet,
periwinkle and corals are also essentially meaningless, as none were found in a clear cultural
context and all could have washed into the site on the backs of high waves. The only faunal
material that is indisputably cultural are the two small conch picks. These are important because
they cannot be natural, and do solidify the argument that indigenous peoples were using Dove
Cay in some capacity. Recall that conch picks were recovered at Pelican Cay in context with
woodworking tools. It is possible that similar activities occurred at Dove Cay, but the data are
hardly conclusive. Any insight into human activities at Dove Cay must await future excavations.
Interpretation of Dove Cay
It is apparent that our limited work at Dove Cay missed whatever cultural material is
present at the site. Because there is so little data, any claims about Dove Cay would be highly
speculative. In fact, were it not for the twin pot, Dove Cay would be classified as an Activity
Area akin to those on Long Cay and not as a “site” per se. It is possible that the island may have
been used as a Ritual Center by the elite residents of Spud and Middleton. However, additional
research at the site is needed to appreciate the role it played in indigenous settlement patterns.
Concluding Thoughts on the Ritual Center Concept
It is interesting that paired sites on the north coast of Middle Caicos (MC-12 and MC-32)
are located within sight of a small cay at which ritual activities took place. If tiny cays like
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Pelican were viewed as an important axis mundi through which various planes of the cosmos
were accessed, then maybe the habitation sites were located where they are precisely because
that axis mundi was within sight. This would serve as a regular reminder to people about how
the universe is organized. It would constantly and consistently reinforce the worldview, and
function to maintain social order and harmony.
The implications of this line of thought extend well beyond the Caicos Bank. Are other
Lucayan settlements located within sight of a small cay axis mundi? Moreover, this is
Amazonian “baggage” presumably carried by everyone in the Ceramic-age Caribbean. To what
extent does this situation occur in the rest of the West Indies? How many other sites throughout
the Antilles are situated within sight of a small offshore island?
Rather then stomp through the bush on the big islands, maybe we should change tactics
and look for ritual center sites on small cays first. If any are identified, then a survey of the
neighboring shoreline could yield evidence of the larger, domestic settlements where the elites
who used the island resided the rest of the time. Granted, one or two sites do not constitute a
regional phenomenon. I only offer these thoughts for my colleagues consideration.
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Table 6-1. The Pelican Cay Ceramic Assemblage
Small (<2cm) 130 299 4 14 134 313
Medium (2-4 cm) 79 510 7 50 86 560
Large (>4cm) 26 492 4 94 30 586
Palmetto Ware 254 1952 8 177 262 2129
GRIDDLE
Plain 15 243 1 68 16 311
Decorated 1 138 0 0 1 138
Palmetto Ware 13 285 1 21 14 306
DECORATED
Small (<2cm) 9 20 2 3 11 23
Medium (2-4 cm) 7 49 6 34 13 83
Large (>4cm) 3 53 7 168 10 221
582 4715
Table 6-2. Vertical Distribution of the Unit Ceramic Assemblage by Sherd Count
Percent of the Unit
Unit Imported Sherds Palmetto Ware Total Assemblage
A 39 13 52 11.1
B 122 138 260 55.6
C 16 11 27 5.8
D 16 17 33 7.0
E and F 52 44 96 20.5
Total 245 223 468 100.0
Table 6-3. Vertical Distribution of the Unit Ceramic Assemblage by Weight (g)
Imported Percent of the Unit
Unit Sherds Palmetto Ware Total Assemblage
A 258 99 357 10.9
B 768 1176 1944 59.3
C 117 72 189 5.8
D 55 59 114 3.5
E and F 370 304 674 20.5
Total 1568 1710 3278 100.0
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Table 6-4. Surface Collections at Pelican Cay
Imported Sherds Palmetto Ware Total
Sherd Count 56 58 114
Weight (g) 667 770 1467
Table 6-5. Punctation Motifs at Pelican Cay

Sherd Description
and Weight (g) Shape Description Stylus
Body, 18 Round Small and deep, single row Solid with flat tip
Shoulder, 28 Round Medium and hollow, single row Hollow reed or straw
Upward
thrusting “Tic-tac” shape pressed upward
Body, 4 cylinder at an angle, single row Unknown
Small, circular, and shallow,
Rim, 6 Round single row Solid with flat tip
Shaped like the head of a bone,
Irregular with the processes visible in the
Rim, 34 round impression, single row Bone
Round, concave “BB” shaped
Body, 4 Spheroid impressions, single row Solid with rounded tip
Angular Round shape pressed sideways
Body, 5 round at an angle, 2 rows Solid with flat tip
Semi-circular shape pressed
Shoulder, 12 Lunate upward at an angle Solid with flat tip
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Table 6-6 Pelican Cay Invertebrate Remains
Large Mollusks MNI
Strombus gigas 32 26 17 27 1.5 102
Strombus gigas tools Pick Gouge Celt Hammer

Finished tools 3 2 2 4 11
< 4 cm 4-7 cm > 7 cm UID Pieces (g)

Charonia variegata 1
Cymatium femorale 1
UID Cymatium sp. 1
Other Mollusks Beads Regular Tools Mass (g) MNI

Codakia orbicularis 22 8 273 30
Codakia orbiculata 9 2
Codakia costata 3 1
Tellina georgiana 79 10
Nerita sp. 68 25
Oliva sp. 22 4
Olivella sp. 1 1
Pinctada radiata 4 1
Astraea caelata 8 1
Sinum perspectivum 20 1
Fissurela sp. 4 1
Trigonostoma tenerum 10 1
Sea biscuit 3 1

Acanthopleura granulata 62 15

Acropora palmatta 56
Solenastria sp. 120
Diploria sp. 253
Favia fragum 16
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Figure 6-1. View of Pelican Cay from the beach at Bambarra Landing. The tombola that
attaches the cay to Middle Caicos is clearly visible as the light color contrasting with the darker
blues of somewhat deeper water.
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Figure 6-2. The jagged northern shore of Pelican Cay.
Figure 6-3. The sea grape vegetation on the western third of Pelican Cay.
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Figure 6-4. Map of the Pelican Cay site and location of our excavation Units.
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Figure 6-5. Frequency of imported and Palmetto ware sherds at Pelican Cay.
Figure 6-6. Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware sherds at Pelican Cay.
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Figure 6-7. Frequency of imported and Palmetto sherds in the Unit assemblage of Pelican Cay.
Figure 6-8. Relative weights of imported and Palmetto ware sherds in the Unit assemblage of
Pelican Cay.
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Figure 6-9. Vertical distribution of sherds from the excavated Units at Pelican Cay.
Figure 6-10. Vertical distribution of ceramic weight in grams by Unit at Pelican Cay.
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Figure 6-11. Northeast facing view of the completed Unit A. Note the shallow soils and the
concentration of rocks in the upper left of the frame, which is north.
Figure 6-12. Northeast facing view of the completed Unit B. Note the protruding bedrock.
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Figure 6-13. Northeast facing view of Unit C. Note the abundance of broken conch.
Figure 6-14. Northeast facing view of Unit D and the obvious boundaries of the cleared circular
area. The pile of rocks in the upper left of the frame was excavated from the unit.
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Figure 6-15. North facing view of Units E (left) and F (right). Note the large boulder in the
northwest corner of Unit E.
Figure 6-16. Some Chican sherds from Pelican Cay.
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Figure 6-17. Chican effigy pot in the form of a human face from Pelican Cay.
Figure 6-18. Meillacan sherds from Pelican Cay.
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Figure 6-19. Imported punctuated serving plate.
Figure 6-20. Conception of the layout of the Pelican Cay site.
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Figure 6-21. View of the flat interior area of Dove Cay, as seen facing southeast from the beach.
The big group of students is near Unit A, which was situated in an area with light surface scatter
of burned rocks and broken shell. Unit B and the 50 x 50 Test Units are located by the blue
bucket in the left-center portion of the frame.
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Figure 6-22. Uphill view from the beach of the cultural deposit eroding out of the eastern side of
the flat area on Dove Cay.
Figure 6-23. View of the conch pile. The flat interior is behind the bushes and to the left.
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Figure 6-24. Satellite view of Dove Cay. Image created in Google Earth.
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Figure 6-25. Map of the Dove Cay site that shows the locations of our excavations.
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Figure 6-26. Jen Riley preparing to excavate the cave.
Figure 6-27 The interior of the cave after our subsurface tests.
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Figure 6-28. Erin Funk appreciating the pile of rocks we removed.
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Figure 6-29. The Unit C trench in progress. Not how the upper 50 x 50 contained dark soils
throughout the first 40 to 50 cm, and the lower 50 x 50 went from darker soil to sterile sand after
less than 10 cm. The students above Unit C are removing Level 1 from Unit B.
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Figure 6-30. Photo of the twin pot.
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Figure 6-31. Detail drawing of the twin pot. Art by Lucas R. Martindale Johnson.
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Figure 6-32. Photo of the incised lines on the right shoulder of the twin pot.
Figure 6-33. Detail drawing of the left side of the twin pot, with view of incised lines. Art by
Lucas R. Martindale Johnson.
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CHAPTER 7
CONCLUSIONS
This chapter pulls together the results of my research to present an overview of the role of
small cays in indigenous settlement patterns in the Turks & Caicos Islands. I begin with a brief
summary of the sites and islands included in the study. To be kind to the reader, I will not repeat
any of the specific details and interpretations of the research, for these have already been
described. Next I discuss in broad terms the underlying logic behind indigenous peoples’ use of
small cay environments, and comment on the regional implications of this phenomenon. Finally,
I conclude with a few ideas for fruitful research that could build upon the results of this study.
Small Cay Sites in the Turks & Caicos Islands
My research discovered that there are three classes of small cay sites in the Turks &
Caicos: outposts, economic hubs, and ritual centers. Each class of site has its own unique
profile. Outposts are small-scale, temporary or seasonally occupied settlements that were
frequently oriented around the exploitation of some locally-available resource. Economic hubs
are larger, more permanent settlements with demographically diverse populations and material
evidence of a full range of domestic and social activities. Ritual centers are small sites situated
on very tiny islands that show evidence of specific elite-oriented activities. In sum, all small cay
sites were not created equal: different islands facilitated different aspects of the indigenous
economy and worldview.
The Gibbs Cay site and the CC-2 site we excavated on the Turks Bank are outposts.
Gibbs Cay was a Meillacan settlement occupied during the 13th century. The residents probably
visited periodically to manufacture beads and procure fish for export to Hispaniola. CC-2 on
Cotton Cay was initially established by Palmetto people, possibly from the central Bahamas.
Later, it was occupied by groups from the Caicos settlements, who were producing beads for
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export shortly after Spanish contact. There are three other small cay sites in the Turks Islands—
another on Cotton Cay and two on Salt Cay. These are also likely outposts, as are the four
known sites on Grand Turk.
The Middleton and Spud sites on the Caicos Bank are economic hubs. Both were
established nearly simultaneously around the mid 12th century by Meillacan affiliated peoples
from Hispaniola. Middleton is the larger and more complex site. It includes a plaza and was
home to the first chief in the Turks & Caicos. This chief oversaw the ongoing trade relationship
with Hispaniola, in which cured conch and fish, shell beads, shell tools, and perhaps wooden
implements were exported. Spud was Middleton’s sister settlement, and likely was established
to expand access to a greater diversity of marine resources, both for local consumption and
perhaps export. Both of these sites continued to be occupied late in prehistory, up to and perhaps
beyond Spanish contact. At that time they were affiliated with Middle Caicos settlements in the
diversified export enterprise with Hispaniola.
The Pelican Cay site is a ritual center. Pelican Cay has an extraordinary assemblage of
ceramics and material culture that indicates it was used for elite feasting, rituals, and other
socially-significant activities. Here, elites from the north coast of Middle Caicos congregated to
negotiate social relations with elites from other large settlements in the region. The Dove Cay
site may have filled a similar role for elites living on small cays near South Caicos, but at this
time, the material evidence is too scant to support such a claim.
Aside from these sites, we encountered evidence of indigenous activity on four other
small cays in the Turks & Caicos. On the Caicos Bank, Horse Cay has a Meillacan site, and
Plandon Cay has a sizeable indigenous footprint. Although circumstances were such that we
could not excavate these sites, they were probably affiliated with Middleton and Spud. On the
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Turks Bank, Long Cay and Pinzon Cay also produced evidence of a limited indigenous presence,
but it is not possible to determine who used these islands or when. None of the seven other small
cays we surveyed in the Turks & Caicos had unambiguous evidence of indigenous occupation.
Still, 11 of the 18 small cays we visited were used to varying degrees in prehistory.
This study also demonstrates that small cays were used by different people across time.
The results make it possible to construct a general culture history of how small cay environments
were employed over the centuries. The first widespread use of small cay environments occurred
during the Meillacan phase (AD 1150 to circa AD 1300). Beginning in the 12th century,
Meillacan affiliated peoples from Hispaniola traveled to the Turks & Caicos to collect local
resources for transport back to their homeland. They began by establishing temporary outposts
across both the Turks Islands and the Caicos Islands. They collected foodstuffs like fish and
conch to help feed the general Hispaniolan populace, and manufactured shell beads for export to
the elites. Over time, demand for imported produce grew. At some point, probably in the late
12th or early 13th century, the Meillacan peoples established permanent settlements in the Caicos
Islands to intensify this trade. More sites were established across the Caicos soon thereafter as
communities grew and a “population explosion” occurred.
In the 14th century, the Meillacan phase transitioned into the Lucayan phase (circa AD
1300 to circa AD 1520). This transition is primarily ceramic: as Meillacan ceramics became
increasingly less common in Hispaniola, indigenous peoples in the Turks & Caicos began to use
the Chican ceramics that replaced them and produce a greater proportion of their own Palmetto
ware ceramics. As this transpired, some small cay sites were abandoned while others continued
to grow. New sites were established on the larger islands as well. Across the area, the
population remained actively engaged in trade with Hispaniolan chiefdoms. By the 15th century,
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salt from Middle Caicos was being exported in addition to foodstuffs, and to a lesser extent, shell
beads. At the time of European contact, small cay sites in the Caicos Bank were working in
concert with settlements on the larger islands to manage the export trade with Hispaniola.
It is significant that these cultures all employed small cay environments extensively for
hundreds of years. This suggests that there is some underlying reason for this behavior that
transcends time and cultural identity. This argument is further supported by limited evidence
that migrants from the central Bahamas also settled in the Turks & Caicos, and chose a small cay
in the Turks Islands. Moreover, there are other small cays not included in this study that have
known indigenous settlements: both Little Ambergris and Big Ambergris Cays on the Caicos
Bank have several sites apiece. Let us now examine the underlying reasons so many different
people used small cays in prehistory.
The Role Of Small Cays in Indigenous Settlement Patterns
It is clear that small cays were a big factor in indigenous settlement patterns. In fact,
small cay sites outnumber sites on larger islands in several regions of the Turks & Caicos. Five
of the nine sites in the Turks Islands are on small cays. In the eastern Caicos Islands, the figure
is even more extreme. South Caicos has only 3 small sites or activity areas—it appears that
indigenous peoples simply did not intensively occupy this island. In contrast, there are 5 sites
and 4 activity areas on the small cays adjacent to South Caicos, including the large economic
hubs Middleton and Spud. Why? I argue that people were attracted to small cays because the
unique nature of these environments helped them meet their economic and social needs in ways
that larger islands could not.
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Economic Reasons to Settle Small Cays
Indigenous peoples of the Turks & Caicos ate and exported fish and mollusks. Fish and
mollusks live in the sea. A coastal settlement on a larger island like Grand Turk or Middle
Caicos has about a 180 degree frontage to this resource. A site on a small cay has much more: at
Middleton, it is 360 degrees. Therefore, the simple act of situating a settlement on a small cay
can effectively double the size of your primary catchment zone. This not only enhances one’s
own food security, but also makes it far easier to generate a surplus for export to affiliated
settlements in Hispaniola, which was an overarching theme of indigenous settlement in the Turks
& Caicos throughout prehistory. Granted, small cays lack the diversity and density of terrestrial
food species. But faunal studies from the Turks & Caicos have shown time and again that
terrestrial resources account for a fleeting percentage of total protein intake. There is also no
evidence that terrestrial species accounted for a significant proportion of exports of foodstuffs.
Indigenous peoples and their export-based economy could survive without a lot of iguana.
Neither could survive without fish and mollusks. The sea also provided other economic benefits
beyond food. It produced the mollusk shells that were manufactured into beads and tools, and
facilitated the movement of people and goods throughout the region. Small cay settlements, by
virtue of their location in the middle of this vast resource, enabled the populace to easily acquire
and transport the goods upon which their economy was founded.
Different types of sites were located on small cays for different economic reasons.
Outposts are situated in small cay environments that facilitate specific activities, like exploiting a
concentrated or locally-available food resource, and beadmaking. Economic hubs are positioned
in environments that facilitate not only resource procurement, but also efficient distribution to
consumers in both the Turks & Caicos and Hispaniola. Even ritual centers play an important
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economic role. The activities at ritual centers are designed to maintain harmonious social
relations between settlements and facilitate cooperative labor arrangements necessary to effect
the export trade.
Even though small cay settlements had clear advantages, these came at a price. While
access to various types of marine protein and raw materials for craft production is clearly a
critical piece of the prehistoric Turks & Caicos adaptation, these are not the only resources
necessary for survival. Therefore, settlements on resource-deficient small cays incurred certain
costs that sites on larger islands did not. First, small cays are extremely arid, and could not
provide water security. Fresh water would need to be located elsewhere and transported to the
cay. Second, manioc- and cotton-producing horticulturalists need substantial tracts of land to
grow their crops. They need plots many times larger than are used for a season’s planting:
individual gardens require a decade or longer fallow period before they can produce again.
Small cays might accommodate kitchen gardens for peppers, gourds, and such, but the manioc
and cotton fields would have to be located elsewhere. Third, small cays do not have trees or any
substantial vegetation. This is a byproduct of their aridity—the plants that grow in this
environment tend to be small and stunted shrubs, grasses, and succulents. Timber and thatch for
structures, lumber for wooden implements, and firewood for daily domestic use had to be
obtained elsewhere. Finally, some small cays are more vulnerable to tropical cyclones.
Middleton, Horse, Plandon, and Long (Turks Bank) Cays are low in many places, and show
some evidence of tidal overwash. Residents would have to seek shelter elsewhere as a storm
approached.
In economic terms these facts should not be viewed as obstacles to settlement, but simply
as costs of doing business. And in reality, the costs were not that high. We cannot forget that
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indigenous West Indians did not view the sea as a noisome barrier, but as a useful conduit.
Canoe travel makes it possible to reach anything within a 16 km radius of a small cay settlement
in 2 hours or less. As long as necessary resources like water, arable land, timber, and high
ground were located on other islands within a reasonable commute, people on small cays would
not have viewed these as inconvenient or inaccessible. Moreover, it would not be necessary to
make these trips every day. Several days’ water could be transported in gourds, tubers have a
reasonable shelf life, a canoe full of firewood should fuel many cooking fires, and cyclones are
seasonal and provide hours of forewarning of their approach. Whatever inconveniences arose
from living on a small cay could be easily mitigated as long as that cay was located near enough
to the resources used in either the daily routine or the occasional emergency. The incremental
costs could not have outweighed the benefits of doubling one’s primary resource catchment.
In conclusion, small cays were part of the indigenous settlement pattern because it made
the most economic sense. They were necessary components of the region’s export-based
economy throughout prehistory. Small cay sites, by virtue of their location near valuable
commodities, facilitated the Turks & Caicos’ trade relationship with Hispaniola. This trade
relationship was present from the very beginning, when Meillacan peoples journeyed to the
region to extract the local resources in the 12th century. They settled small cays to maximize
access to the resources they were there to collect. Over time, the enterprise ultimately grew into
MC-6 and its allies—a diversified, export-focused conglomerate, engaged in the salt, fish, conch,
and tool industries, with a footprint throughout the Turks & Caicos Islands. Small cay sites were
a critical means of production for this enterprise. These sites did incur additional costs, but these
were manageable and did not outweigh the benefits of maximizing access to the resource base.
The indigenous peoples of the Turks & Caicos recognized this basic market principle. That is
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why they so heavily incorporated tiny, arid, windswept, resource-deficient cays that seem so
useless to us today into their settlement pattern.
Social Reasons to Settle Small Cays
The people who lived on small cays must have had their own vision of why they were
there. Certainly they were cognizant of the underpinning economics, but they would not have
described their experiences with terms like “access to catchment zone.” In their worldview,
small cays were not factories, but a familiar place where familiar people did familiar things.
Their reasons for using a small cay were necessarily more personal and intimate, and it is useful
to explore how they may have interpreted these.
Very likely, indigenous peoples held different concepts of different small cays and
different types of small cay sites. For example, it is difficult to imagine that they felt the same
way about Pelican Cay as they did about Cotton Cay. Considering the differences between
outposts, ritual centers, and economic hubs provides fruitful insight into these contrasting views.
It is relatively simple to conceive of how indigenous peoples viewed outposts on small
cays. These were small scale, temporary settlements at which small groups of people (probably
men) engaged in specific economic activities. The lack of much social pretense at these sites
suggests that indigenous peoples viewed them and the associated small cay environment as a
means to an end—a place where there was work to be done without much pomp and
circumstance. Small cays with outposts probably were not viewed with much more regard than
any other part of the landscape.
Ritual centers lie at the opposite extreme. Pelican Cay may have been viewed as the axis
mundi between the three planes of the indigenous cosmos. These islands literally link sea, earth,
and sky. Because they are so much smaller than other islands, these cays look like the earthly
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plane wedged between the other realms of the cosmos from a distance. When viewed from a
perspective on the island itself, earth, sea, and sky seem to become one element—the earth upon
which one stands is incorporated into the surrounding sea, and the open vistas in all directions
create an impression that everything is immersed in the dome of the sky. One can imagine that
this impression was why ritual centers could have been viewed as portals through which one
could access the supernatural worlds above and below—here the sea and sky combine to envelop
you and your earthly footing, all at once. Ritual centers are also associated with sacred space by
virtue of their distance from the profane domestic activities of daily village life. As such, they
were ideally suited for the special people and the special activities that took place there.
The spiritual significance of economic hubs on small cays is more difficult to interpret,
for there are many more variables. Even so, Spud is easier to conceptualize than Middleton Cay,
for Spud lies on a pretty big island that lacks the clear visual link to the cosmos that is suggested
by tiny cays like Pelican. Consequently, Long Cay was probably not viewed as a particularly
sacred place, but rather as a suitable locale that helps local peoples maximize the economic
potential of the region. It is more difficult to surmise how Middleton fit into their worldview.
Middleton Cay is small and low, and the profile it cuts on the horizon creates a similar
impression of the axis mundi one experiences while gazing at Pelican Cay from Bambarra
Landing. Yet at Middleton, profane domestic activities are an integral part of the settlement, and
their presence must have in some way seemed polluting to this otherwise sacred space. How was
this contradiction reconciled? I believe that the plaza at Middleton provided a means to resolve
this apparent conflict. The plaza created a concentric system of sacred space which centered
around the Middleton chief. The plaza was built to project social power and sanctify the chief
and his household residence. Middleton Cay was already an attractive place to settle from an
446
economic perspective, but the island’s appearance as an axis mundi of the cosmos may have also
factored into the chiefly decision to establish a large settlement there.
Conclusion
The decision to incorporate small cays into the regional settlement pattern in the Turks &
Caicos Islands was based upon overarching economic needs and aspects of the culturally-specific
worldview of indigenous peoples. This was not an isolated phenomenon: the small cay
settlements examined in this study are affiliated with numerous cultures and date from between
the mid 12th century to after Spanish contact. Small cay environments mattered to the
indigenous peoples in the region. They should matter to the archaeologists who study them, too.
Avenues for Future Research
My research revealed a great deal about the manner in which small cays fit into regional
settlement patterns. In the process, it raised some new questions and even produced some
surprises. Below I briefly outline some research questions that could build upon my research and
lead to a better understanding of indigenous activities in the Bahama archipelago and beyond.
The Role of Small Cays Elsewhere in the West Indies
The factors that caused the first residents of the Turks & Caicos to exploit small cay
environments are not found only in the southern Bahama archipelago. Many people throughout
the West Indies faced similar economic situations and lived by a similar creed. Therefore, it is
reasonable to expect that the settlement pattern I observed in the Turks & Caicos occurred
elsewhere in the region. In general, small cays have not received much attention from
archaeologists. I am not entirely sure why, but I assume that logistical difficulties have a lot to
do with it. After all, you need to hire a boat to get to there, and that can be expensive and
difficult in more remote locations. I also believe that the discipline suffers from a bit of “group
447
think” based on notions that small, remote cays are too resource deficient to have ever been
intensively settled by humans. Clearly that was not the case, and small cay environments
elsewhere in the Antilles should not be ignored. My experience even tells us where to look:
small inshore islands like Pelican Cay and Dove Cay near coastal habitation sites, and more
remote cays that lie within a 16 km radius of larger, more resource-laden islands. We must
actively explore these environments to build a more complete picture of indigenous West Indian
settlement patterns. If I have encouraged any of my colleagues to visit small islands in the
course of their research, then I will consider this project a complete success.
Additional Field Research in the Turks & Caicos Islands
It is a common lament that one never has enough time in the field to accomplish
everything one sets out to do. If I had the chance to lead another project just like this one, then I
would focus on the following sites to explore leads generated by this project. I would excavate
Dove Cay to evaluate if it was a ritual center akin to Pelican Cay, or an outpost like Gibbs Cay. I
would visit Horse Cay to solidify the Meillacan affiliation I suspect and determine how the site
related to Middleton and Spud. The deposits at Spud are better preserved than any of the other
sites we examined, and I would return for additional insights that better explain how the site
evolved over time. I would like to know the relationship between GT-4 and other Meillacan
sites in the Turks Islands. Finally, I would spend as much time as I could visiting small cays
across the Caicos Bank, especially around Providenciales and North Caicos, where there are
many potential targets.
The Vertebrate Faunal Material from the 2004 Excavations
There is much to be learned from the bones we recovered in 2004. None of the vertebrate
faunal material was analyzed, and there are bags and bags of it curated at the Florida Museum of
448
Natural History. I truly hope that a brilliant young anthropology student looking for a “shovel-
ready” MA thesis topic is steered toward that collection. There is a great deal an analysis could
tell us about the subsistence patterns at various small island sites. It would also add welcome
context to the ideas I have outlined, and could help test many of my hypotheses.
Were There 17th Century Lucayans?
The biggest surprise of this project was some tantalizing evidence that indigenous
peoples survived in the Turks & Caicos long after Spanish contact. The traditional thinking is
that the Lucayans had vanished by the second decade of the 16th century. This timeframe comes
exclusively from Spanish accounts, and is not directly supported by other lines of evidence.
A growing body of archaeological data contradicts the conventional wisdom. There are
three sites in the Turks & Caicos that must have been occupied after Spanish contact because
they contain European items. This implies that at least three settlements were active long enough
after contact to acquire Spanish goods (MC-6 and CC-2) and Spanish rodents (MC-32).
Radiocarbon data from 2 bird bones excavated from deposits at MC-6 produced dates of Cal AD
1550 and Cal AD 1630 (Jones O’Day 2001:4). This data clearly suggests that at least MC-6 was
occupied at least in the 16th, and perhaps into the 17th centuries. Further evidence is provided by
my radiocarbon sample from a 30 cm subsurface context at Gibbs Cay, which produced a date of
Cal AD 1620 (albeit with a two-sigma range that begins at AD 1490). Elsewhere, settlements on
Eleuthera in the central Bahamas, have produced dates in the 16th and 17th centuries (Michael
Pateman, personal communication 2009).
The radiocarbon data alone seem sufficient to the call the early 16th century timeframe for
Lucayan extinction into question, but there are other circumstantial reasons to doubt the
Spaniard’s conclusions. First, no one knows which of the Turks & Caicos or Bahama islands
449
Ponce de Leon or other Spaniards visited (Sauer 1966:190). Lucayan population densities were
not huge, and they may have bypassed the settled islands entirely. Second, if the Spanish had
approached Middle Caicos where two of the verifiable post-contact sites were located, they could
not have gotten very close. The settlements were inaccessible to Spanish caravels. The Caicos
Bank waters adjacent to MC-6 are quite shallow for many kilometers south of the island, and the
north coast near MC-32 is protected by the impenetrable fringing reef (Don Keith, personal
communication 2009). Third, even if the Spanish set foot on Middle Caicos (for which there is
no evidence), the Lucayans could have simply fled into the dense bush—with which they were
intimately familiar—and hid until the Spaniards gave up and left.
If “the Lucayans survived into the 17th century” is a working hypothesis, then how should
we evaluate it? I have a few ideas for productive research into this question. This list is
certainly not exhaustive, and I primarily offer it as food for thought.
First, we should re-evaluate our radiocarbon data from Lucayan sites. Perhaps more 16th
and 17th century dates have been obtained from the Bahama archipelago, but researchers were
loath to report them because they are not in line with the “conventional wisdom.” I have to
admit I initially felt this way about the Gibbs Cay date, which is why I submitted another sample
for analysis! Caribbean researchers should re-examine our radiocarbon results and not be afraid
to include valid radiocarbon evidence simply because it contradicts the Spanish chronicles.
Second, we should reconsider our notions about what a post-contact site looks like.
Spanish artifacts certainly indicate that a site was occupied historically, but we should not expect
to find these at every post-contact Lucayan site. Consider En Bas Saline, the “ground zero” of
initial Spanish-Taino relations. Here, there are few Spanish items in evidence in the post-contact
indigenous middens, because many Taino domestic activities continued uninterrupted well into
450
the 16th century (Deagan 2004). Because they were more peripheral to the Spanish Main, the
Spanish never had much of a presence in the central and northern Bahama islands. Moreover,
these islands did not maintain a trade relationship with Hispaniolan settlements that might have
provided Spanish trinkets in exchange. Because they were “out of the loop” it is probable that
Spanish activities had less impact on these Lucayans, and that they continued to practice
business as usual. Consequently, we should not assume that sites with a purely Lucayan
assemblage were, by definition, occupied prior to 1492. We are far more likely to identify 16th
and 17th century Lucayan sites if we shelve the idea that these must have some European
component in the assemblage.
Third, we should consider how news of Spanish actions would have affected the
Lucayans. By virtue of their longstanding trade relationship with settlements in Hispaniola, the
Turks & Caicos communities had to be aware of what was going on there in the decades after
contact. Reports of military massacres, forced servitude, and mass die-offs must have caused
them to adjust their behavior out of self interest. The data from CC-2 suggests as much, and we
should look for additional evidence at other contact-era sites in the region.
Finally, we should evaluate how Spanish/Lucayan relations were negotiated when there
was direct contact. By virtue of their propinquity to and trade relationship with Hispaniola, the
Lucayans in the Turks & Caicos were likely visited by the Spanish soon after they began
searching the “other islands” for labor in 1509. Shallow waters, reefs, and other local conditions
would have made it difficult for the Spanish to simply round up and deport everyone in the Turks
& Caicos as slaves. The Spanish must have recognized this, and perhaps sought some other
arrangement that was to their advantage. The Turks & Caicos had been exporting valuable
commodities to Hispaniola for centuries. These commodities would have been desired by the
451
Spanish. Caicos fish and conch would help feed the indigenous laborers that were working for
the Spanish and no longer producing food for themselves. Furthermore, salt and cotton were
valuable items both in New Spain and in Europe. If the Spanish recognized that the Turks &
Caicos population was worth more to them as provisioners than as slaves, perhaps they struck a
deal in which the Lucayans continued to provide commodities in exchange for protection or
immunity. Such an arrangement must have been agreeable to the Lucayans, who had to know
what the alternative was. Perhaps the deal also included intelligence on other Lucayan
settlements elsewhere in the region where the Spanish could search for labor to deport. It was
certainly not unheard of that one indigenous polity allied itself with the Spanish to gain an
advantage over a local rival—Guacanagari did it with Columbus at the onset! It is a stretch, but
maybe the Turks & Caicos Lucayans even became partners in the slave trade. They would know
far better than the Spanish where other communities were located, and it would be easier for
them in canoes to capture rivals in raids than the Spanish with their heavy ships and imperfect
understanding of local waters. There is historical precedent for such deals with the devil. This
scenario played out in the African slave trade centuries later, where coastal chiefs allied with
European powers captured inland rivals and sold them across the Atlantic.
At this point, these are just ideas. However, it does seem time to put the early 16th
century timeframe for Lucayan extinction to rest and start to explore the notion that the
indigenous peoples might have survived well into the next century. I intend to make this one of
my central research foci going forward.
Conclusion
The main objective of my research was to explore how indigenous peoples of the Turks
& Caicos incorporated small cay environments into their settlement strategy. In the process, I
452
wanted to enhance our broader understanding of Turks & Caicos prehistory by surveying areas
for new sites and examining sites that had previously been reported but never excavated. This
would facilitate a secondary goal: to unite a lot of disparate sources, thoughts, and musings about
Turks & Caicos prehistory into a single document. I hope I have succeeded, and that my
colleagues find this research useful.
453
APPENDIX A
FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT RESPONSE #1
454
APPENDIX B
FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT RESPONSE #2
455
APPENDIX C
RADIOCARBON REPORTS
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
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477
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH
Pete Sinelli was born in Dearborn, Michigan. He moved with his family in 1975 to
Jacksonville, Florida, which inured in him a lifelong appreciation for the climate and lifestyle of
the Sunshine State. After a brief sojourn to Atlanta, the Sinellis returned to Jacksonville in 1981.
In time, Pete graduated near the top of his class from Bishop Kenny High School in 1988. He
still regards Jacksonville as his home town, and remains an ardent Jaguars fan.
As the son of successful entrepreneurs, Pete intended to pursuer a career in business. He
graduated from Indiana University’s Kelley School of Business with a BS in finance in 1992.
Even so, the “study of man” was never far from his mind: he was the only finance major in his
class to also minor in anthropology. After graduation, he embarked upon a predictable path and
accepted a position in Chicago with The Northern Trust Company in commercial lending and
treasury management sales. After meeting Amy, he relocated to Columbus, Ohio in 1996 and
joined the family business.
Pete worked with Sinelli and Associates as an executive recruiter and insurance industry
consultant for nearly three more years. At some point in 1997, he could no longer silence the
little voice he heard in the back of his head that kept repeating: “You love archaeology! Go be
an archaeologist!” That fall, he spoke first to his wife, and then to his parents, about leaving the
family company and pursuing his dream. They wholeheartedly supported him then, as they have
throughout the entire process. Amy even uprooted her legal practice, studied hard to pass the
Florida Bar, and moved away from her family in Ohio to Gainesville so he could matriculate at
the University of Florida and study the nuances of vanished prehistoric civilizations of the
Caribbean.
478
Several jobs, four relocations, and two kids later, Pete finds himself in Orlando, Florida
where he has been on the anthropology faculty at the University of Central Florida for the last 4
years. Pete currently resides near downtown Orlando with his wife Amy and young sons
Michael and Alexander.
479

Sinelli

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ALL ISLANDS GREAT AND SMALL:

THE ROLE OF SMALL CAY ENVIRONMENTS IN INDIGENOUS SETTLEMENT

PETER THOMAS SINELLI

A DISSERTATION PRESENTED TO THE GRADUATE SCHOOL

a huge reason this project succeeded.

reason I made it this far. We (not I) did it!

LIST OF TABLES .........................................................................................................................12

LIST OF FIGURES .......................................................................................................................13

2 THE CAICOS BANK SURVEYS ........................................................................................39

Geographical, Physical, and Biological Description of the Caicos Bank...............................39

3 THE TURKS BANK SURVEYS ..........................................................................................99

Geographical, Physical, and Biological Description of the Turks Bank ................................99

4 OUTPOSTS: THE TURKS BANK EXCAVATIONS .......................................................148

Gibbs Cay .............................................................................................................................148

5 ECONOMIC HUBS: THE MIDDLETON AND SPUD EXCAVATIONS .......................222

Pelican Cay ...........................................................................................................................365

Small Cay Sites in the Turks & Caicos Islands ....................................................................438

A FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT RESPONSE # 1 ....................................................454

B FREEDOM OF INFORMATION ACT RESPONSE # 2 ...................................................455

C RADIOCARBON REPORTS ..............................................................................................456

LIST OF REFERNECES .............................................................................................................469

BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH .......................................................................................................478

4-1 The Gibbs Cay Ceramic Assemblage ..............................................................................203

4-2 Gibbs Cay Unit Elevations (in cm below datum) ............................................................203

4-3 Gibbs Cay Marine Invertebrate Remains .........................................................................204

4-4 Radiocarbon dates from the Governor's Beach site .........................................................204

4-5 The CC-02 Ceramic Assemblage.....................................................................................205

4-6 CC-02 Depth of Deposit by Unit .....................................................................................205

4-7 Cotton Cay Marine Invertebrate Remains .......................................................................206

5-1 The Middleton Ceramic Assemblage...............................................................................323

5-2 Middleton Invertebrate Remains......................................................................................324

5-3 The Spud Ceramic Assemblage .......................................................................................325

5-4 Spud Invertebrate Remains ..............................................................................................326

6-1 The Pelican Cay Ceramic Assemblage ............................................................................414

6-4 Surface Collections at Pelican Cay ..................................................................................415

6-5 Punctation Motifs at Pelican Cay.....................................................................................415

6-6 Pelican Cay Invertebrate Remains ...................................................................................416

2-3 Marshy area of Long Cay ..................................................................................................83

2-5 The windward shore of Long Cay .....................................................................................84

2-9 View of LC-AA02 .............................................................................................................87

2-10 View of Spud, facing north ................................................................................................87

2-11 The surface scatter at Spud ................................................................................................88

2-12 Moxie Bush, viewed from the south ..................................................................................89

2-18 The “conch crawl” of Iguana Cay ......................................................................................92

2-19 Horse Cay and its relationship to South Caicos .................................................................92

2-20 The undulating coastline of Six Hills Cays........................................................................93

2-23 Matt Kear surveying Six Hills Cays ..................................................................................94

2-24 The magnificent female osprey guarding her nest .............................................................95

2-26 The shacks on the northernmost tip of Plandon Cay .........................................................96

3-1 Map of the Turks Bank ....................................................................................................133

3-4 Pete Sinelli with part of an airplane wing ........................................................................135

3-5 The field school students posing on a large tree ..............................................................135

3-8 A Brown Noddy “nest” ....................................................................................................137

3-12 Big Sand Cay’s legions of swarming Sooty Terns ..........................................................139

3-16 The rock wall of Pinzon Cay’s windward shore ..............................................................141

3-20 Possible ground limestone pestle .....................................................................................143

3-23 The stacked and mortared rock footers ............................................................................144

3-25 The rusting remains of abandoned equipment .................................................................145

3-26 Three of the four deflated bladders ..................................................................................146

3-28 Satellite image of Pear Cay ..............................................................................................147

4-1 Satellite image of Gibbs Cay and site GC-1 ....................................................................207

4-2 The Gibbs Cay beach .......................................................................................................207

4-3 North-facing view from the apex of Gibbs Cay...............................................................208

4-4 Location of Gibbs Cay relative to Grand Turk ................................................................208